


Sightless

by Potato_Being



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blind!F!Dragonborn, Canon Divergence, Dark, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dark Brotherhood Spoilers, Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Mild Language, SO MUCH LANGUAGE, Spoilers, Swearing, Thalmor, Thieves Guild, main quest, thieves guild spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:44:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 69
Words: 63,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potato_Being/pseuds/Potato_Being
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esil was supposed to die on that headsman’s block. Instead, the nearly blind elf is ‘saved’ as a dragon attacks and she’s forced to run. Now she’s wandering Skyrim trying to stay alive and not make too many more enemies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Enjoy what ended up as a full-length novel.

“Next, the dark elf!” Esil wasn’t sure who was talking, but she stepped forward anyway. Hands grabbed her roughly and pushed her down onto a hard wooden block. She heard someone next to her and she could smell fresh blood. There was someone who died before her, wasn't there? Was her head going to be joining his in the basket? Maybe in Sovngarde she’d be able to finally see.

Then she heard it again—a strange roar. The first time it had been far away and high up, but now it sounded closer. Too close…

“What in the name of Oblivion is that?” Someone shouted.

“Sentries! What do you see?” The same woman who commanded her execution was speaking. Then she heard a deep voice above her, the skies crashing loudly, and a booming shout as she was thrown into the ground. She laid there, confused, and wishing that she could see. Whatever was happening, it would probably look amazing.

“Get up!” A man shouted—the same one who had talked to her on the wagon. A… Stormcloak? Whatever the hell stormy cloaks meant. Ralof, was his name?

“Where’s the ground?” She asked. ‘What’s on the ground’ would probably have been more helpful, but a pair of rough hands pulled her up.

“Hold onto me, I’ll get you out of here!” Came his voice again, and she was being pulled over rough and uneven ground. The ground changed to smooth stone, and a door was shut. The hand let go of her and she slowly walked forward, feeling for a wall. She ran into a man.

“Watch it!” Came a deep voice.

“Well excuse me, but I can’t see!” Esil almost shouted. Footsteps, backing away from her.

“My apologies, dark elf.”

“Elf, follow me, I see a way out!” The hands again, pulling her up uneven stairs. The voice was at the top, and suddenly she felt fire on her face. She fell, landing hard on the stairs, trying to get up quickly. The hands pulled her up and onto a flat part.

“There’s a building about ten feet down. Most of the roof’s gone. Just jump as far as you can, all right? We’ll get across if we can.” The voice gave her careful instructions, and helped her step onto a ledge that probably used to be a wall.

“You sure you can live with letting me try and save my ass without any help?” Esil asked.

“I’m sure you can do it. I have faith.”

“I don’t.” Esil muttered, and leaped off of the ledge.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“That was not ten feet.” Esil said as she hit the wooden floor hard, falling over and trying to catch herself with her bound hands. “If I could freaking see this would be simpler.” She deeply regretted trying to steal the gold from that mage now. Even shades of light and dark would be infinitely better than complete blackness, with sounds, smells and the messages her hands and feet were giving her now.

She didn't stand up, instead she crawled across the floor as she felt fire behind her. She felt the edge of the planks and rolled off of the ledge, landing on stairs. She got up and felt along the wall until she found a door. She ran through it, listening for people. She heard the man who had expressed hesitancy and a form of regret over her impending execution nearby. She followed his voice and ended up slamming into him, knocking them both over.

“What are you doing?”

“I can’t see where I am!” Esil shouted this time, fairly sure that his ear was right there.

“Right, sorry. Get off.” Esil stood carefully, and heard him stand too. “Good, now follow me if you want to survive this!” Hands again, this time roughly pulling on the ropes that bound her wrists away from the terrified screams of a child and toward the roars of… _something_ that was breaking the rooftops and walls of buildings around her. She was pulled to her knees as something huge hit the ground next to her. She reached out to touch it, and felt somewhat smooth, leathery skin against a knobbly bone.

“What the hell is going on?” She shouted as the thing disappeared and dust filled her nose.

“A dragon! A dragon is destroying this town!”

“How is that possible?” Esil asked.

“I don’t know and I don't care right now—run!” The hands pulled her up steps and down steps, across a cobblestone road and past what she assumed were archers, judging by the whistle of arrows by her head.

“Ralof you traitor!” The man shouted. She strained to hear the other man’s reply, but a building behind her came crashing down. The hands let go of her as fire came down next to her, and she ran away from it, tripping over more steps and running into a door.

“Stop, hold still! I can cut you loose, just let me help you get inside first!” It was the Stormcloak again, and his hands were back, guiding her inside. The noise died down, and a knife was heard being unsheathed. The ropes were cut and she could feel her fingers again.

“Where are we?”

“A tower in Helgen.” The man said. “Here, put these on. The man who wore them won’t be needing them anymore. I’ll look for a way out of here.” Clothes were placed in her hands, and she quickly but carefully slipped them on. She really had no qualms about being seen in her underclothes, but she was fairly sure that the man might. When she was fairly sure that it wasn’t on backwards and her boots were on the right feet, she felt the familiar wooden handle of a weapon being pressed into her hand.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asked.

“We don’t want you completely helpless. Because really, even if me and my men wouldn’t attack you, those Imperial dogs probably would, regardless of whether you were armed or not.”

“I don’t want to accidentally kill you, though.” Esil said hesitantly.

“Trust me, I’d know when to duck.”

“If you say so. How about sparks?”

“How about what?” Esil summoned sparks into her right hand to show him.

“Oh, those. I’ll watch out for them, don’t you worry.”

“Thank you.” Esil said.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The place stunk. Esil could feel blood under her boots, and the place reeked of blood, sweat and urine. She was fairly sure that she’d killed one of the torturers, and found that lock picking while blind was fairly similar to lock picking while seeing. She could feel a few septims in her pocket, and she was being guided through a mouldy passageway by Ralof.  
“You haven't been blind long, have you?” He asked.  
“Only for about a week.”  
“Why?”  
“Screwed up and pissed a mage off. Used some sort of spell on my eyes.”  
“I see. And you’ve been blind since then?”  
“Pretty much, yeah.”  
“There are temples in Skyrim. Perhaps you could see if one of the Divines would restore your sight.” Ralof suggested.  
“I doubt it.”  
“Why? Do you not believe in them?”  
“I believe in what I can see. Well, not see, but things that are tangible. Things I could see, and I can hear, smell, touch and taste.” Esil said. She had always held some doubts about the Divines, not because she didn’t believe, but because she had no reason to. She hated bending down to anyone or anything at any time, and she didn't want to start now.  
“Am I real to you, then?” Ralof sounded concerned, and slightly afraid. Esil didn't know why he’d ask something like that, as he was dragging her along through who-knows-where.  
“Very real.”  
“So how do you know that a dragon has attacked Helgen?”  
“I felt its wing.” The leathery thing she had rubbed her hands all over, as she now realised, was probably a wing.  
“You… what?” Ralof sounded shocked.  
“You heard me.” Esil said flatly. “Can we keep walking?”  
“Yes, of course.”  
They continued in silence for a while, until Ralof swore quietly.  
“What now?” Esil asked.  
“A bear. I don’t want to wake her, but we might have no choice.”  
“I can shoot her.” Esil said.  
“How? You’re—“  
“I know I’m blind. But if I can get close enough, I can probably judge where she is by her breathing. Hand me the bow.”  
“I don't think— all right. But my sword is out, for when this goes wrong.”  
“If it goes wrong.” Esil corrected.  
“Sure, of course. Here.” A bow was handed to her, and a quiver of arrows. Esil strung one on her bow, and crept toward the bear. She heard its heavy breaths, and drew the arrow back, aiming for where the sounds were coming from.  
“Please let this be right.” Esil muttered and let the arrow fly. She heard a crunch and a short roar, but then everything was silent again.  
“I don’t believe it. You shot it right through the skull. Here’s your arrow. Would you like a pelt as well? Might come in handy.”  
“Sure. Gimme.” Esil held out her hands and felt a piece of skin being placed in them.  
“Follow me. I can see sunlight.”  
“Oh, goody.” Esil said as the hands took her again and led her up a hill and into warm sunlight.


	4. Chapter 4

A roar sounded in the air and Esil could hear huge wings flapping.

“Where is it?” She asked.

“Flying down the valley away from us. It should be gone soon.”

“Great.” Esil said. “Where to, now?”

“Riverwood. My sister owns the lumber mill there.”

“Okay. Where’s that?” Esil asked.

“Follow me.” Esil heard him stand up from somewhere, and take her arm again. This time he was gentle, and walked slowly down a hill. For the next half hour he was telling her about their surroundings, and warning her about rocks and logs in the road. He stopped walking as several howls were heard.

“Damn, wolves.” He said. “Take out your axe. We’re going to stand back-to-back.”

“Wolves?” Esil asked.

“Yeah, I hate those things.” Esil heard growling and smelled the stinking breath of something low to the ground. She swung with her axe and felt it lodge in something’s skull. A sharp whimper pierced the air and the axe dislodged from the thing’s skull. Another whine was heard and a thump as it hit the ground.

“Come here, I want to show you something.” Ralof said, and led her over onto a stone slab. “These are three of the guardian stones. I hear that there are more scattered across Skyrim, but for now, we’re here.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Choose one, if you want. There’s the thief stone, the mage stone and the warrior stone. They’ll protect you as you grow stronger in their skills.”

“And why would I be able to use them?” Esil asked.

“Well, I highly doubt that you’re going to become a beggar at this point, so you might as well.”

“Fine. Which is which?” Esil’s hands were led to each stone, and she was told which one was which. “Okay. I’m a mage already, so this might help.” Esil said as she pressed her hands into the centre stone, and felt it grow warm as a buzzing was heard.

“Not the one I would pick, but to each his own. Come on, we’re almost there.” Ralof said, taking her arm once more.

“I’m almost to the point where I’d prostrate myself just to get some sort of sight.” Esil said.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Ralof’s grip loosened.

“Does it look like I have a choice? No, you’re fine. I’d just like to see where I am. And what I’m attacking.” Esil told him. The hand tightened around her wrist once more.

“All right. We’re in Riverwood now. We just passed the wall. We’re heading over a bridge, don’t fall off.” Esil heard her feet hitting wooden planks, and the rush of water below her.

“What time of day is it?” She asked.

“Around noon, I think.” Ralof told her.

“All right. Thanks.” Esil said.

 


	5. Chapter 5

She was left to find her way to Whiterun by herself. Gerdur handed her a staff to help her find her way and led her across the bridge, with the instructions to go right and stay on the road. She had food in her pockets and flames in her free hand. Her axe was on her belt and she had new boots. She slowly picked her way down the road, making sure that the river’s roar was on her right, and the sound of birds was on her left. She heard cows soon, and the sound of a hoe digging the ground. She also heard humming.

“Hello?” She called. The humming stopped.

“Hello, traveler.” A woman said.

“How far to Whiterun?” Esil asked.

“You’re right outside the gates. Go up the path and over the drawbridge, and you’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” Esil said, rapping the staff against the stone road. She walked up the hill and banged the staff on her way over the drawbridge.

“Why can’t they just have it in one straight line?” Esil asked herself. “All you have to do is move the gate.”

“Halt! The gate is closed to visitors right now.” A guard—or what Esil assumed was a guard— said harshly.

“Well whoop-de-doo. I need to get in there now.” Esil told him.

“The gate is closed.”

“I need to see the Jarl. Riverwood is in danger.” Esil remembered what Gerdur had told her to say.

“Riverwood… fine. You may enter. But don’t make trouble, elf.” She heard the gates open and she stepped inside.

 

—

 

“Okay, so if I keep walking in a straight line I should get… _somewhere_.” Esil talked to herself on the way in, banging her staff on the ground. She heard people muttering and moving to the side, clearing a path for the supposedly insane blind elf to walk in. “Thank you for your cooperation, we appreciate it.” Esil said as a child ran into her, looked up, gasped and ran away. She heard someone calling out about fruit, and walked toward the sound.

“Hello?” Esil asked. The woman stopped her spiel and was probably looking at her.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

“I need to find the Jarl.” Esil said flatly.

“Okay… He’s up in Dragonsreach.”

“What the crap is that?”

“Go up the steps, past the tree, and up more steps toward the huge building at the top of the hill. You can’t miss it.” The woman sounded frustrated and Esil walked away, whacking her staff on the steps as she climbed them.

“Past the tree…what freaking tree? How am I supposed to—oh.” Esil walked into the tree and stood there for a moment, feeling the bark. “Hello, tree. How are you?” She turned right, avoided the bench and climbed the stairs, and pushed open a door. “Top of the hill, got it. Oi, where the fuck is this Jarl I’m hearing about? You need to get your asses down to Riverwood!” Esil shouted. She heard plates clattering, and the buzz of people talking died into complete silence.

“This isn’t Dragonsreach. This is Jorrvaskr.” Someone said.

“Well fuck it, I can’t see a goddamn thing!” Esil said. She turned, feeling for the door and grabbed what she thought was a doorknob. It was someone’s armour.

“Let go.” A deep voice warned her. Esil removed her hand, raising it up against her chest.

“Sorry. Where’s the door?” Esil felt around behind her, grabbed the doorknob and pushed on it. “There it is. Bye.” Esil said, and backed out, turning and trying to walk quickly, but ended up tripping and falling down the stairs. “Well, shit.” Esil said, picking herself up and feeling for her staff. She grabbed it and began whacking the ground with it, trying to find the third set of steps.

“Wait!” She froze, not knowing what was happening. It was the same voice that was attached to the armour.

“What am I about to step in?” She asked.

“You’re about to step in the stream. And I’ve been told to help you up the stairs to Dragonsreach. There’s no railings and someone with your…problem…would probably fall off.”

“Well, thanks. Who’re you?”

“Vilkas. Follow me.” Hands again, this time large and rough, pulling her as gently as they could, but still too quickly for her.

“Slow down!” Esil said. He did, somewhat.

 

—

 

“Here we are. Through the door and up the stairs. He’s at the far end.” Vilkas said, and just like that, he was gone. Heavy footsteps were heard walking back the way Esil had come.

“Thanks. I think.” Esil said and pushed open the doors.

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Is the Jarl in this building or have I managed to walk into a temple or someone’s house despite being led here?” Esil shouted as she banged the wooden floor mercilessly on her way up the stairs.

“Halt! What business do you have with the court, that you’d barge in here like this?” Someone said.

“Riverwood business. I need the Jarl to send troops or something.” Esil told the voice.

“Very well, you may approach him.” Esil nodded and banged her staff up more steps until a hand grabbed her armour, forcing her to stop.

“What business would you have that would cause you to walk in here and interrupt me in the middle of council?” A voice said.

“Dragon business.” Esil said.

“What kind of fool do you think I am? Get her out of here!”

“Helgen’s been destroyed. Gerdur is worried Riverwood might be next!” Esil said quickly as hands grabbed her shoulders.

“Wait.” The hands left. “Helgen is destroyed? Are you sure it wasn't a Stormcloak raid gone wrong?”

“Positive. Last I checked, humans can’t fly or breathe fire.”

“But you’re sure you saw a… dragon?”

“I didn’t ‘see’ anything.” Esil waved her hand in front of her eyes.

“Ah, I see. So we would trust the word of a blind elf?”

“I touched its wing, if that helps. And I felt its fire. I heard death, I heard buildings crashing down. If you send people now, Helgen is probably still smouldering.” Esil told the Jarl. “And I walked from Riverwood to Whiterun, by myself, with no eyes. Why would I come up here just to lie?”

“You walked. And no one helped you.” The Jarl sounded annoyed.

“Someone called Vilkas made sure I didn't fall off your steps.”

“There was a dragon in Helgen. And a blind elf was told to walk to Whiterun to tell me about it.”

“Is this not normal? I just assumed Nords were assholes about this. No offence.” Esil whacked herself in the head with her staff.

“No, this is not normal. I’d expect more decency from my people.”

“Well, I’m here now. Please don’t arrest me.” She said.

“I won’t arrest you. I’ll send troops down to Riverwood now.”

“Great. Can someone help me down the stairs?” Esil asked.

 

—

 

Esil ended up hitting a guard in the face with her staff when she tried to find her way down to the inn. She crossed a small wooden bridge and opened the door.

“Hi, are there any rooms here?” She asked.

“This is the temple of Kynareth.”

“Sorry. Wait—could she cure my blindness?” Esil asked.

“If you pray to her, perhaps she will cure you.” The man said. Esil nodded and picked her way over to the shrine. She knelt down and tried to figure out what to say.

“Uh… hi? I don’t know how to do this. Just… can you fix my eyesight? Please?” Esil muttered. She heard bells, and her face grew warm. She clapped her hands over her eyes as they seemed to vibrate, and her nonexistent irises seemed to forcibly contract. Then they burned. She grit her teeth as her eyes felt like they were slowly roasting, and just as she was sure they would be blackened and burnt, the pain stopped. She felt at peace. She lowered her hands and opened her eyes. Colours assaulted her vision and she snarled, shutting them again. She opened her eyes once more, slowly, and saw vague outlines and shapes. They became clearer, barely, and she could see where she was.

“Shit. I didn't think it would work.” Esil said. She then looked at the shrine. “Thank you.” She stood up carefully, grabbing her staff. Her eyesight was still shot, she could barely see where she was, but at least the vague outlines and wavy shapes were better than complete darkness with the strange, disjointed noises all around. She smiled.

“Awesome.” She said, and walked out.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Whiterun was huge, at least to Esil. She hadn’t seen any other Skyrim holds, and the Morrowind villages she had been through were tiny. She could hear and see so many colours. They were blurred, but they were there. She walked back across the bridge, still rapping the ground to find loose stones, and picked her way back down the steps to the marketplace.

“It’s you again. Find your way all right?” Esil could see the woman now. She was thin, and had dark hair.

“Sort of. Walked into the wrong building. Thanks, though.” Esil said.

“Oh? How did you manage that?”

“I’m blind.” The look on the woman’s face was pretty funny to Esil.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise—“

“It’s fine. I found my way.”

“All right. Well, if you ever need fruits or vegetables, come see me. I can fix you right up.”

“Thanks.” Esil said, and walked away.

 

—

 

“Where was I supposed to go?” Esil asked herself as she stood on the wall outside Whiterun. She looked back at the guards, who were stiff and motionless at their posts. She shrugged and slid off the wall. She walked down the path towards a stables, marvelling at how much harder it is to find your way in the dark, and decided to head back to Riverwood.

“Maybe I can work the lumber mill.” She said to herself.

 

—

 

It was twilight as she walked back through the arching wall into Riverwood. Glancing behind her quickly to make sure there were no hungry wolves, she then looked over at the blacksmith’s shop and saw Ralof. He was bulky, and had the regular look of a Nord man.

“Ralof!” She called. He looked up and saw her. He smiled and walked towards her. “Troops are on their way, I think.” She told him.

“Thank you, Esil. I’m sorry that I couldn't help you get there, but since everyone knows I’m a Stormcloak, I didn't want to get arrested.”

“Sure, sure. Although someone who wasn't recognisable would have been nice. I walked into the wrong building twice and fell down a flight of steps.” She said flatly. Ralof looked horrified.

“Please, forgive me Esil. I should have sent someone with you, but I’d forgotten.”

“I’m alive. For now.” Esil said. “Where can I go to sleep?”

“Gerdur said that you were welcome in her home. Why don't you join us there?” Ralof asked.

“Okay. As long as I’m not intruding.” Esil said.

“Why would you be? Come, follow me.” Ralof took her arm once more and led her through the town. Esil didn't exactly mind his hand guiding her, but she did get tired of being led like livestock.

“I prayed to Kynareth.” She said as they approached a house. “She restored some of my sight.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” The hand was gone. Ralof was smiling.

“Everything’s incredibly blurry, though. I can barely see you.” Esil told him. He nodded.

“I see. Well, come in. Gerdur is probably fixing a meal, and you are welcome here.”

“Thanks Ralof. I’m kind of glad we were almost executed together. I wouldn't have met you otherwise.”

“You might be dead otherwise.”

“Probably. That, and probably still blind.” Esil said as they entered the house.

“Esil! How are you? I saw soldiers coming into Riverwood earlier.” Gerdur said, looking up from a pot.

“I’m all right. And you?”

“A bit worried, but better now. Come, sit down. We have a hot meal and a spare bed if you’d like one.” Gerdur handed her a bowl of soup and she sat on the bench next to their table, drinking it.

“A place to sleep would be nice. In the morning, do you have any work I can do?”

“I don't know. It doesn’t seem right, making you do work with your…condition.”

“I’m better now, honestly. I can swing an axe as long as I know where the wood is.” Esil persuaded.

“If you want to… in the morning we’ll see.” Gerdur said.

 

—

 

Esil laid down on the wooden floor. She had refused the bed, saying that she wasn't going to kick Ralof out of a perfectly good night’s rest, and so she took a bedroll and curled up in a corner of the house. She listened intently to the world outside. An owl hooted and somewhere in the mountains wolves howled. She could hear the clank of guards walking by, and inside the house the other four inhabitants slept peacefully. She curled up into a ball and shut her eyes, drifting off into sleep.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate Barrows. And crypts. And catacombs. Before I had a bow I died many times.

Esil sat up, eyes wide open. She could just make out the edge of the bed and the open door, and figure out that the house was empty. She got up and went outside, unsure of what had woken her up. She saw the people who lived there wandering around, and walked over to Gerdur, who was walking back up the road.

“Good morning, Esil. Sleep well?” She asked. Esil nodded.

“I’m leaving today. Thank you for letting me sleep there.” She said.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Gerdur asked. Esil nodded.

“I’ll be dropping back by now and again, don’t worry.” Esil told Gerdur. Gerdur simply nodded as Esil walked by her and stood in the main road, looking down the road toward the bridge, and up into the mountain.

“Where am I going?” Esil asked herself. Then she looked up the mountain in front of her. She could just make out stone pillars at the top. “That looks like fun.” She said.

 

—

 

“Not fun. Not. Fun.” Esil snarled quietly as she took inventory of her fingers. “Go to the Riverwood Traders, they said. Ask about the robbery, they said. Go to the Barrow all by your fucking self, they said! Well I did! And now there are Draugr!” She almost yelled that last part, but quieted herself quickly. She pulled another arrow taught on her bow, aiming for where the blurred outline of a Draugr slept. She loosed the arrow and heard the satisfying thunk of iron hitting bone. She continued to creep forward, until she found another puzzle lock.

“Well, shit.” She said, pulling out the claw. “So… the rings correspond to the images on the claw? I’ve got this.” She said, pulling on the rings and then pressing the claw into the centre. It clicked, turned and the rings spun as the door lowered.

“That was needlessly annoying.” She said, creeping through. As she entered another chamber, she saw three Draugr break out of their coffins.

“Who buries their dead upright?” Esil muttered as she slipped behind one of the crumbling columns. She listened to them growl and scuffle around, and then finally stop moving. She grinned and drew another arrow, peeking around the column.

And got hit from behind with a dull sword. Esil spun around, dropping her bow with a clatter and grabbing her axe. She summoned flames and burned the Draugr until it fell over, and sunk the head of her axe into the second Draugr’s head. On the third she burned it until it staggered, and chopped its head off, leaving its body to collapse. She saw it had a bow and decided that that one was nicer than her longbow. She slung the new one on her back and kept walking.

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Here’s your goddamn claw. I expect payment, and I expect it now.” She told the trader. He looked shocked.

“Thank you, uh, here. I hope this is suitable.” Esil counted out 200 septims, looked at the man, and pocketed the coin grudgingly.

“Bye.” She said, leaving the building loudly, stomping down the stairs. “Let’s go deal with wizards.” She said to herself.

 

—

 

“You’re Farengar?” She stuck her head into the room, her hands hanging on the log doorway, and asked the man in robes.

“Yes. But you’ll want to see the Jarl for any questions you might have. I’m a very busy man.” He said. Esil looked around as he stood in the middle of the room doing nothing.

“I can tell.” Esil said. “Also, I found something in Bleak Falls Barrow and I don't know what the fuck I’m looking at.” She handed him a chunk of stone. He took it cautiously, and then a smirk appeared on his face.

“I’ve been looking for this. It’s a map of ancient dragon burial sites.” He put the book down. Esil cleared her throat. “Oh, you’ll want some sort of compensation. Uh, here.” He handed her a spell book and a pouch of gold.

“Thanks.” Esil said, looking at the book. “Healing hands?” She muttered. “Might come in handy.”

 

—

 

“Where am I going?” Esil asked herself as she followed soldiers down to a watchtower. “Why did the Jarl decide that this was a good idea?” She stood outside, watching the skies. She heard the guards talking amongst themselves, and decided it was better to ignore them. Then she heard it— a roar, not unlike the same sound she had heard in Helgen. And if what accompanied it was real…

“Dragon!” A guard shouted. Esil’s eyes widened as she saw a huge winged lizard climb into the sky. Its wings pumped the air, letting it glide in majestic arcs. She would have enjoyed watching it if it wasn't trying to kill her. She pulled out her bow and shot an arrow as it swooped down low overhead, breathing fire. She heard screams, but blocked the sounds out of her mind. Her only focus was the dragon. She was glad that it was sunny, and she could easily see it. She loosed another arrow, striking it in the jaw. As she shot a third into its eye, it let out a scream and crashed. She advanced on it, firing arrow after arrow into its skull. She vaguely heard the guards shouting at her, but her focus was on the dragon.

As she shot a final arrow the dragon reared up, spreading its wings and falling over, collapsing limply on the ground. Esil moved to loot the body for whatever she could get, but its skin began to smoulder and burn. Her eyes widened as tendrils of… _something_ … wafted off the body and wrapped around her. She grimaced as her body felt like icy, slimy eels were sliding into her skin. She nearly collapsed as her vision flickered, and was perfect for a split second. Like an earthquake, voices were heard on the wind.

“ **Dovahkiin** ” She looked up as the ground shook, and then stopped. The air was silent. The guards were hanging back. Esil stood up.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Jarl… Balgruuf, right? What was that…noise?” Esil asked. She was standing in Dragonsreach, facing the Nord man.

“The Greybeards. Up on High Hrothgar. They’re calling the Dragonborn.”

“Well that’s great. I hope they find who they’re looking for.”

“The guards told me that the dragon vaporised.”

“Is that not normal?” Esil asked.

“No, it’s not. I think you need to go to High Hrothgar and see what they want.” Balgruuf told her.

“Me. Go to the top of a mountain. Where the earthquake came from.” Esil said flatly.

“Yes. Before you go, though… you’ve done us a great service. Whiterun is in your debt. If you would accept, I’d like to make you Thane.” Balgruuf told Esil.

“What would make you possibly want that?” Esil asked.

“You’ve helped us. I trust you.”

“I am probably the least trustworthy person you could think of. Isn't there anyone else better suited for this?”

“No.” Balgruuf looked annoyed.

“Fine. What do I get out of it?” Esil sighed.

“Besides being able to make the guards turn a blind eye? You could purchase property here. And I will grant you a housecarl.” He told the Dunmer this like it was the easiest decision she could possibly make.

“A what?”

“A person who has sworn to serve and protect you and your belongings with their life.” The Jarl said slowly.

“Sounds good. Count me in.” Esil shrugged.

 

—

 

“My name is Lydia. I’ve sworn to serve you, my Thane, with my life.” The woman was small, but broad. She had dark brown hair and scary-looking steel armour. Esil nodded.

“Hi. Ever been to Hrothgar?”

 

The two climbed upward on the cracked stone stairs. Esil shivered slightly, pulling her ratty cloak around herself tightly. Lydia grumbled but followed diligently. Esil froze as a roar split the air.

“The hell was that?” Esil asked fearfully.

“Frost troll.” Lydia told her, unsheathing her sword.

“I don’t want to deal with that thing. Let’s go around it.” Esil said. Lydia sighed and Esil climbed up a rock, offering Lydia a hand. She arrogantly refused, climbing up gracefully and quietly. Esil climbed across the rocks, feeling with her hands and feet where the edges were as much as seeing them. She saw something white bound by, but kept climbing. As they passed the nest stone pillar she jumped down, and kept walking.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“My Thane, I’ll wait here.” Lydia said as they climbed the steps to High Hrothgar.

“In the blizzard. Great idea, Lydia.” Esil said.

“I don't think they’d exactly welcome me.” Lydia told her.

“So you’re sending me in alone. Glad to know I’m appreciated.” Esil muttered.

“No, I—fine. I’ll join you. But I’m staying as far away from those Greybeards as I possibly can.” Lydia sighed as Esil pushed open the doors.

 

—

 

“Anyone in here? Someone caused an earthquake down near Whiterun.” Esil said, rapping her staff on the ground. It echoed, and Esil could just make out braziers and several grey figures.

“Dovahkiin.” Someone said.

“Yeah. Hello?” Esil asked.

“So it is true… We did not think anyone would answer our summons. I am Arngier.” A hooded man approached her.

“Hi. Esil. What—who’s Dovahkiin?” She asked.

“You are. Dovahkiin, or Dragonborn— someone who can absorb the souls of dovah: dragons. You have the soul of a dragon.” Arngier said.

“I have a what?”

“Soul. Of a dragon.”

“And this benefits me how?” Esil asked.

“You can save this world from Alduin.”

“The crap is that?” Esil was getting confused. Having new words thrown at her and a fuzzy grey man saying she had a lizard’s soul all in one day was making her want to go lie down and sleep.

“Alduin the World Eater. He is supposed to bring about the end times. But for now, we wish to teach you the ways of the Voice.”

“How about the ways of the Sight while you’re at it?” Esil asked.

“I don't understand.” Esil waved her hand in front of her face.

“You’re a fuzzy little man to me. What’s the ‘voice’?” She said.

“The Voice, or Thu’um, channels your words into a physical output.”

“That makes complete sense.” She said flatly.

“I’m glad it does. Come, follow me. We must teach you.”

 

—

 

Lydia followed Esil on their trek down the mountain quietly.

“Well that was fun. Let’s go get drunk.” Esil said.

“You’re not going to find their horn?” Lydia asked.

“Why should I? I’d just have to climb back up this stinking mountain. And I have no desire to do that. What I do want  to do, however, is go down this mountain, go to the inn in Ivarstead, and get completely trashed. That sound good?” Esil asked.

“Anything you want, my Thane.” Lydia sighed. Esil hummed.

 

—

 

“I have no idea where we are.” Esil said. She stood outside a barrow, looking into where a ghost had just run.

“Who was that?” Lydia asked.

“Who knows. Let’s go in!” Esil said happily. Lydia sighed and followed the elf into the Barrow.

Esil pulled back her bowstring, watching the ghost examine the walls and floor of the cave.

“This guy looks bright. I’m gonna shoot him.” Esil said. Lydia hit her forehead with her palm.

“It’s a ghost.”

“So? I won’t hurt it.” Esil told her confidently, and loosed the arrow.

It got stuck in the ghost’s shoulder.

 


	12. Chapter 12

Esil’s eyes widened as the ghost screamed, clutching his arm.

“That’s… not a ghost.” Lydia said.

“Let’s kill it!” Esil shouted.

“Why is that your first reaction?” Lydia asked, standing up and following Esil. Esil looked a bit like a manic child as she ran towards the wounded ghost. He looked up and saw her, and drew a knife with his good arm.

“You’re not getting the treasure!” He screamed, and charged. Esil shot him in the face. He fell over with a dull thud.

“I thought you were blind.” Lydia said, walking up to her.

“I can sort of see. Everything’s vague outlines. And really, it’s a glowing man running at me screaming. Hard to miss.” Esil said. Lydia shrugged.

 

—

 

“Where the crap is Riften?” Esil asked. They were sitting at a table in the inn, listening to the bard singing about Dragonborn. Lydia had to hold Esil down from jumping up and screaming about how she was Dragonborn.

“Down near the southwestern border. Nasty place, really. Full of thieves and corruption.”

“Worse than Markarth?”

“Not as bad as Markarth, no. But close.” Lydia said. “Can we please stay away from both those Holds? Why don’t we go somewhere nice, like Windhelm?”

“The cold place? I don't want to go to the cold place. I want to go to Riften.” Esil sounded like a child. A heavily armoured, weapon-toting child.

“Fine. Can we kill some bandits on the way?”

“And take some bounties on giants. We can go explore ruins on the way, too. It’ll be fun.” Esil nodded, walking over to the innkeeper.

 

Lydia ran at the giant, swinging her sword and impaling its knee. Esil shot it in the head, pulling back another arrow as the mammoths panicked, charging Lydia. Esil ran at them, throwing firebolts.

“ **Fus**!” She shouted, knocking the mammoths back a little. She shot more arrows as Lydia slashed at them. After they were toppled Lydia frowned at Esil.

“‘Fun’? ‘Fun’? Are you fucking kidding me? That was not ‘fun’.”

“They’re dead. So?”

“I almost died!” Lydia shouted.

“You didn’t. Do you want to leave?” Esil asked.

“Yes, I—no. I’m your housecarl. I have to protect you.”

“I’m going to Riften. Go back to Whiterun. I’ll see you there.” Esil said.

“Fine. Other than… this fiasco, it’s been… well, it’s been weird, and annoying, and life threatening, but other than that… it’s been an honour to serve you.” Lydia told her.

“Okay. Be safe.” Esil said. Lydia nodded and walked away, sheathing her sword.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Esil walked into Riften around dawn. From what she could see, it was a wooden fishing town. The guard at the gate had tried to bilk her, spewing something about a ‘tourist tax’, but she had managed to avoid him. Now all she wanted to do was sleep. She saw the vague outline of a sign on the building across from her, and upon closer inspection revealed itself to be a tavern. Esil pushed open the door.

 

—

 

“Welcome to the Bee and Barb. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.” Esil heard a male Argonian say. She could see a green outline sweeping the floor by a table.

“Okay, I will.” She told him. She walked forward and felt her staff hit something soft.

“By the Divines, watch where you’re going!” She heard someone say loudly. She turned and saw yellow robes. She couldn't see who belonged to the robes, but he sounded angry.

“What did I hit?” She asked.

“My foot! What are you, blind?” Was the reply.

“Look at my eyes and take a guess.” Esil told him. “Did I break anything?”

“Oh. No, I don't think so.” His voice was calmer now.

“Sorry.” She told him, and ran her staff just above the ground, feeling for objects and people. She found the bar and sat down carefully, still gripping her staff tightly.

“What’ll it be?” She heard another Argonian ask.

“Mead.” Esil said.

“Coming right up.”

“You’re blind, right?” Esil started and swung her staff at the voice. She heard something hit the ground.

“What the hell?” Esil asked.

“Ow.” It was the same voice whose foot she hit.

“What do you want?” She asked him.

“For you to put the stick down. Please.”

“No.” Esil said. “I don't trust people.”

“If we go to one of the private rooms?”

“You’re a person, right?” Esil asked.

“That’s what they tell me.” The man would not leave. Esil debated whacking him in the head, but decided to go along with his proposal. She could always knife him if he tried anything.

She followed the vague outline of his yellow robes up the stairs and into one of the rooms. He sat down on the bed and looked at her.

 

—

 

“Well?” She asked.

“You’re blind. Perhaps we could work out a deal? One where I accompany you for… protection, and you pay me?” He said.

“I’ve come this far. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? Riften is full of pickpockets and thieves. Who knows what could happen.”

“I’m not going to be here long. I need to talk with the Jarl and then I’ll leave.” Esil told him.

“And in that space of time, any number of things could happen. Besides, once you’re outside of Riften… there are bandits. Thugs. Wolves.”

“So what’s your rate?” Esil asked.

“500 septims up front.”

“What’s your name, first?” Esil asked, fishing around in her pocket.

“Marcurio. Master mage— and not too bad with a sword, either.” He said. Esil handed him a hundred septims. “This isn’t five hundred.”

“You’ll take the coin, because you obviously need it. Any gems or coin you pick up along the way you can keep as payment.” Esil told him flatly.

“And what makes you think I need the money?”

“You dragged me up here trying to get hired.” Esil said. “Pack anything you can carry easily. We’re going to the Jarl.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Esil practically bounded down the steps, humming. Marcurio ran after her, looking concerned.

“Where are you going now?” He asked.

“On an adventure!” She shouted. Esil felt manic, and she wanted to kill something. “We’re going bandit slaying!” Marcurio looked annoyed.

“Great.” He said.

 

—

 

They stood outside of a cave, looking inside.

“So what do we do?” Marcurio asked quietly. He was going to try and attract as little attention from the elf as possible.

“We go inside.” Esil told him calmly. She seemed to have calmed down, but Marcurio was still wary. She led the way inside, crouching low and drawing her bow. Marcurio copied her, summoning sparks and flames to his hands.

Esil heard the bandits before she saw them, and they never got a chance to fight. She shot two arrows in rapid succession, each hitting their targets in the head. She didn't stop to loot, ignoring Marcurio’s loud rifling through the objects on the table and in the bandits’ pockets. Three more arrows fired, and three more bodies on the ground. She was sure the chief was around somewhere.

“Who’s there?” A man in heavy armour stood on a low cliff. There he is. Esil didn't respond, only shooting him in the head. With a loud clank he fell off the cliff and onto an old table, knocking the stuff on it around. Esil grinned and scampered over to him, grabbing his helmet and putting it on. She took his steel armour and traded her leather for it. She looked over at Marcurio as he crept in, looking around.

“Good job defending me from bandits, Marcurio.” Esil said. “Really earning your pay there.”

“I am earning it. I have to get 400 septims worth of loot, remember?” He told Esil. “Anything in here?”

“A gem. Here.” Esil tossed him a stray ruby. “I get this coin pouch. And the arrows. And the elven bow.” Esil dropped her old bow and picked up the new items.

“Anything else?” Marcurio asked, standing up straight.

“Nope. Pick out whatever you want.” Esil told him, walking over to a locked chest and taking out her lockpicks. Marcurio sighed and began rifling through the shelves and under the chairs for loot. Esil opened the chest and grinned as she saw a huge pouch of septims.

“Well, hello there.” She said, picking it up. She grabbed the books and left the rest for Marcurio to deal with.

“I’m ready. Hurry up.” She told him.

“I am. These things take time.” Marcurio said.

“I could go get a bedroll to wait while you play. I think I will. Leave my books alone.” Esil said, leaving him. Marcurio grumbled as he pocketed as many gems as he could.

 

—

 

“Did you enjoy that?” Esil asked.

“Why did I decide being hired by you was a good idea?” Marcurio asked.

“You’ve been following me for an hour.” Esil told him.

“I’ve never made a decision about someone so quickly.” Marcurio folded his arms. Esil shrugged.

“I’m headed for Dwarven ruins. They’ve got great stuff in there.” Esil said.

“I don't have a choice, do I?” Marcurio said.

“Not if you want your money.”

“I’m broke and about to lose my room in the inn. Let’s go delve into some ruins.” Marcurio sighed.

 


	15. Chapter 15

“Esil. Esil? Esil!” Marcurio whispered loudly. Esil glared at him, letting the bowstring go slack.

“What?” She asked.

“Will there be Falmer down here?” He asked.

“I don't fucking know. Now would you shut up so I can kill this Dwarven shit before it sees us?” She said, pulling the bowstring back and shooting a dwarven spider.

 

—

 

Lydia walked into Dragonsreach and up the stairs. Balgruuf watched her approach.

“What are you doing back so soon, Lydia?” He asked.

“We parted ways. She decided it was best.” Lydia said.

“Where was she going?” Balgruuf asked as Lydia grabbed a bottle of wine and a tankard.

“Riften. I tried to change her mind. She ignored me.” Lydia told him.

“I see. You tried, anyhow.” Balgruuf told her. Lydia nodded.

“I tried.” Lydia sat down at one of the tables. “She’s not very bright. I mean, she’s completely oblivious to most of what goes on around her. And she’s blind. How does she hope to go adventuring blind?”

“I don't know what her logic is. I just hope that she doesn't make things worse wherever she goes.” Balgruuf sighed.

 

—

 

“So you’re a bowman?” Marcurio asked.

“What gave it away?” Esil replied as she shot a Falmer.

“Just a hunch. If you can’t see, how would you expect to hit anything?”

“The Falmer have bows. They’re blind, right?” Esil asked.

“You’ve been blinded recently.”

“I’ve been using a bow all my life. I’ve been blind for about two weeks.” Esil shot a chaurus as it tried to detect them.

“Two weeks? How?”

“Do you really want to know?” She asked.

“Not really.” Marcurio decided to avoid the subject for the moment.

“And I can see. Just not well.” Esil told him. She froze as a loud clanking reached her ears. “What’s there?” She asked.

“A Centurion.” Marcurio told her.

“Can we avoid it?”

“No. It’s in our path.”

“Be ready to use lightning.” Esil told him, pulling back her bowstring.

“You’re not going to actually shoot it with a bow?” Marcurio asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She replied, and loosed the arrow into the golden form. With a loud hiss it began searching for them.

“Idiot.” Esil muttered, and shot it again. It staggered, and then turned and charged them.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Marcurio jumped up and used lightning bolt on it, knocking it backward. With a firebolt to the head he destroyed it.

“Right. Let’s go into the Dwemer ruins and _shoot the Centurion with a fucking arrow_. Really good idea, elf!” Marcurio said as Esil clambered over the rocks towards the Centurion. “Why are you going near it?” He ran after her as she grabbed the soul gems from its body, as well as the power core. “What the hell is your problem?” He asked.

“Could you keep it down? There might be more.” Esil said.

“No, I will not ‘keep it down’! You’re insane! You can’t even see where I point and you’re wandering around dangerous ruins!”

“That’s why I hired you.” Esil told him. “You can see where you’re pointing, so it’s okay.”

“It is not okay! I am just about done with this shit!”

“Then leave. Leave the blind girl all alone, and you’re still out a room and money.” Esil told him.

“I am never taking a job like this one again.” Marcurio said, and froze as an arrow whizzed by his head. “What the hell was that?” He asked, and then heard something fall to the ground.

“Falmer, I think. Heard your temper tantrum and decided to check it out.” Esil told him.

“I did not have a temper tantrum!”

“Oh, yes you were.” Esil said.

“You could have shot me! I could have died!” Marcurio told her.

“Darling, you’re wearing bright yellow robes. You’re kind of hard to miss. If I wanted you dead, your body would be on the ground with an arrow sticking out of it.” Esil told him. Marcurio looked confused as she walked by him, down the rocky path towards several Dwemer buildings. He threw his hands in the air and followed her.

 

—

 

Esil was humming again as they picked their way down a steep rocky path towards light.

“Would you stop?” Marcurio asked.

“Stop what?” Esil asked.

“Humming those three notes like you have for the past half hour.”

“No, why?”

“It’s annoying me.” Marcurio told her.

“Hum your own thing. I want to hum these three notes and I will hum them for as long as I want.” Esil told him. Marcurio groaned as she continued to hum.

 

—

 

“Where are we?” Esil asked.

“I would have no way of knowing. You’re the one who led us down here.” Marcurio told her.

“Yeah, but you should have been remembering the way out.” She told him.

“You never told me that.”

“But you should.”

“You never told me to!”

“Should have.”

“Never mentioned it!”

“Should.”

“Never! Not once!” Marcurio began screaming at her, growing more frustrated as she just sat down and looked at him blankly, her milky eyes boring into him creepily. He grabbed the front of her armour, and at that point she bared her teeth and pushed him away, drawing her dagger and pinning him to the ground.

“Shut up. Now.” She growled. Marcurio liked to tell himself that nothing scared him, but the blind Dunmer pressing the dagger to his neck terrified him. He thought he was going to die at the bottom of the Dwemer ruins. He shut his mouth, pressing his lips tightly together. Esil looked to the side, down one of the dark hallways. She removed the blade from his neck and sheathed it. Marcurio laid there as still as he could as she drew her bow, notching an arrow and pulling back the string. Marcurio strained his eyes, trying to see what she sensed, but saw nothing. His heart began beating faster and ice filled his veins as he heard a clatter, and then a _clack-clack-clack_ of sharp pincers on stone.

“Chaurus.” Esil breathed. “A lot.” And just like that, she shot an arrow into the darkness, heard the screech of a wounded monster and she turned and ran the other way. Marcurio watched as if frozen, as the huge black bugs crawled out of the darkness. His eyes widened and his senses kicked in. He was up on his feet and running the other way, down into the winding maze of halls. He didn't stop, continuing to turn corners and fly through doorways as he tried to lose the damned bugs.

 

—

 

Esil tripped over a broken column and landed hard on her face. She whimpered and blinked back tears as she stood, drawing her bow again. She heard nothing, and then realised that she’d forgotten Marcurio. She was hopelessly lost, and she was completely alone. She drew an arrow as she listened for sounds besides the general clanking of machinery. Then she heard footsteps. They were panicked and running, but light. She aimed her bow at the sound, and readied herself to loose it. She saw yellow and mistook it for gold, and fired the arrow.

“Shit!” She froze.

“Who’s there?” She called.

“Who do you think?” She approached the voice that belonged to the yellow. She put her bow back on her back and stood there. Marcurio opened his mouth to say something, but had a cold, rough hand grab his face.

“What the hell?” He asked.

“I can’t see you. Let me feel what you look like.” Esil said as she rubbed his cheek. He raised an eyebrow as she grabbed his nose, moving down to trace his mouth.

“Is this really necessary?” He asked as she gripped his chin, and brushed against his neck. Then she grabbed the amulet.

“What’s this?” She asked

“Amulet of Mara.”

“What does it do?” Esil cocked her head to the side.

“Nothing.”

“It doesn't protect you? What good is that?” Esil asked. Marcurio glared.

“Do you know nothing about Skyrim customs?”

“Nope.” Esil said.

“It means I’m available.” Marcurio told her.

“For hire. I know that. Do all sellswords wear them?”

“Are you bluffing or really this oblivious?” Marcurio asked.

“About what?” Esil asked.

“Never mind. Let’s find our way out.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

“Sunlight. Finally.” Marcurio sighed as they exited the ruin. Esil looked up at the sky.

“I want to go swimming.” She said.

“Why?” Marcurio asked. “Was the unexpected drop into the lake down there not enough?”

“I want real swimming. Not having to stay afloat because of impending death.” Esil told him.

“You’re in luck. Theres a little pond right here.” Marcurio told her. She smiled and ran towards it, pulling her boots off and standing in it, grinning. “You’re like a child.” Marcurio said as he sat down on the bank.

“Lots of people say that.”

“A child with no qualms about murder.”

“That too.” Esil flopped down in the water, closing her eyes.

“Where to now?”

“Somewhere to sleep.” Esil told him.

 

—

 

“This is where we’re going to sleep?” Marcurio asked as Esil dragged a body off of a bedroll.

“Yup.”

“It smells like blood.”

“I’m used to it. You should be, too.” Marcurio watched as she stretched out on her stomach and went to sleep, sprawling her limbs everywhere.

“You’re an idiot.”

 

—

 

“Where to now?” Marcurio asked as Esil slowly woke up.

“You’re cheerful this morning.” Esil told him.

“Oh, why wouldn't I be? It’s raining, cold and I’ve already killed a bear in the past hour. Why wouldn't  I be happy?” He asked. The body of a cave bear lay nearby.

“No idea. Let’s go to Riften.” Esil said, still half-asleep.

“Fantastic idea. Couldn't have picked a better location myself!” Marcurio said loudly. Esil looked at him.

“Are you upset about something?” She asked.

“No, nothing at all. Let’s go.” Marcurio told her, grabbed the bag she had filled with loot and began marching to Riften.

“I get the feeling that you’re not happy. Why aren't you happy?” Esil asked. Marcurio laughed harshly.

“I’ve nearly died five times in the past twenty four hours. Tell me, are your excursions always like this?”

“No. Less danger for me, more for anyone who tries to kill me.” Esil padded along quietly.

“Why are you blind?” Marcurio asked again.

“I thought you didn't want to know.”

“I think I deserve to at this point.”

“A mage cursed me.”

“Why?” Marcurio asked.

“I was cold, hungry and didn't have a septim. He found my hand in his pocket, trying to take the carrot he had in there. He freaked out and blinded me. Also, he burned off some of my toes.” Esil said.

“Wait—you tried to steal from a mage… and he blinded you?”

“Yes.”

“Because you tried to steal food.”

“Yes.” Marcurio looked at her.

“Why didn't you just ask him?”

“What do you think I did in the first place?” Esil cocked her head, frowning at him.

“He wouldn't give you any food?”

“Why is this so difficult for you to understand?” Esil asked him.

“I don't understand why he’d say no.”

“Because people are idiots.” Esil told him.

“Okay.” Marcurio kept walking, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Her head was forward and he had no idea where she was looking.

“There’s Riften.” Esil said after a while. Marcurio nodded as they approached the walls of the Hold.

“Am I fired?” He asked. He wanted to be back at the Bee and Barb, but part of him wanted to keep following the strange little elf.

“Do you want to be?” Esil asked.

“Yes.” He pushed away the little bit that said no and the elf nodded.

“Fine. Have fun.” She said as they entered the gates of Riften.

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esil meets Brynjolf.

Esil walked over to the market where someone was trying to sell a potion.

“What’s that do?” She asked.

“Why, this is Falmer blood elixir! One drop of this can heal all injuries, cure disease and make an old man feel young again!”

“It looks like mead.” Esil said, eyeing the brown-red liquid. The man leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Mead does that. The point of this is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth. It’s an art form, really.”

“So why not get a real job?” Esil asked.

“This is a real job! It’s difficult, requires work and takes up most of my day!”

“Bilking people of their hard-earned coin.” Esil said.

“Yes.” The man told her.

“I’m not buying that, so don't try to sell it to me.” Esil told him, and walked towards where a Dunmer was selling trinkets.

“Wait!” She turned back to the man.

“Meet me in the Bee and Barb tonight. I want to talk to you.” Esil frowned as he went back to hawking bogus potions.

 

—

 

“What do you want?” Esil asked as she walked up to him.

“You’re blind. No, wait—you can see, but not well. Am I right?” He asked.

“Yes…”

“Yes, but people think you’re totally blind. That’s an advantage.”

“I can’t see details or people’s faces. How would that help me?” She asked.

“Appearing to be something you’re not, and diverting suspicion are very good talents for a thief.” He told her.

“A thief.” Esil said flatly.

“Yes. I think you could do it.”

“You’re not going to leave me alone until I do what you want, aren't you?”

“Got it.”

“So what do you want?” Esil asked.

“I want you to go back to the market tomorrow and while I distract everyone, I want you to place the ring of one seller on another. Got it?”

“What’s in it for me?” He leaned down and gripped Esil’s shoulders.

“The path to sidewalks full of septims.”

“You’ve piqued my interest. When do we begin?” Esil asked.

 

—

 

“Madesi, the Argonian. See him? He has a silver ring. I need you to take it and plant it in Brand-Shei—the dark elf—plant it in his pocket. Can you do that?”

“And what will you do?” Esil asked.

“Distract everyone. I’m giving you about two minutes to get it done. Starting…now!” Esil ducked as the man flung his arms out, shouting “Everyone, gather round!” The shopkeepers groaned and walked over.

“What is it this time, Brynjolf?” The Argonian asked. Esil ducked down behind him and gently pulling his ring off of his finger. She grinned and scampered over to the Dunmer, slipping the ring silently into his pocket. She scooted backwards into the corner by some barrels as Brynjolf finished talking, and the Argonian noticed the missing ring. Esil watched as he began shouting about his missing ring, and the Dunmer pulled the ring from his pocket.

“Good job, lass. There might be hope for you yet.” Esil looked up at the redhead.

“Thanks, I think.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

“Welcome to the Ragged Flagon, lass.” Brynjolf led her into a stinking, mouldy sewer chamber.

“You don't actually live down here, right?” Esil asked.

“No, we live in the Cistern.”

“Oh, Divines help me.” Esil muttered.

“The Divines can’t help you down here, lass. Just accept it.” Brynjolf led her around the pool of green water to a wooden ramp leading over to a small bar. A Nord man with blond sideburns stopped them.

“Brynjolf, who is this?”

“Never caught your name, lass.”

“It’s like a disease. You don't want to catch it.” Esil muttered. Brynjolf eyed her curiously. “Esil! My name’s Esil.”

“You’re a strange one. Why’s she down here?” The blond man asked.

“She shows promise, Dirge.” Brynjolf told the man.

“Really. You better not make trouble.” He told Esil. Brynjolf rolled his eyes and led Esil past Dirge into the centre of the room.

“This is Vex, Vekel, Delvin and Tonilia. They are your go-to people for anything you need. Follow me. Esil looked around and continued to follow him.

 

—

Esil stepped towards where Mercer Frey and Brynjolf were talking.

“So this is the new recruit. Doesn’t look like much, Brynjolf.”

“She can do the jobs. And she can do them well.” Mercer frowned, looking the short purple-skinned Dunmer up and down. She was blind and unkempt.

“Really? Then she shouldn't have any trouble getting into Goldenglow Estate.” From what Esil could see, Brynjolf was shocked.

“Are you kidding? Even our little Vex couldn't get inside!”

“You want to test her, I give you a test. Now send her off.” Brynjolf glanced over at Esil, nodding at Mercer’s retreating back.

“Go talk to him. He’s forgotten something important.” Brynjolf muttered. Esil blinked, and cautiously followed Mercer.

“What now? Aren't you supposed to be headed for the estate?” Mercer growled.

“I think you forgot to tell me what to do.” Esil told him.

“Right. Goldenglow Estate provides honey for the Black-Briar Meadery. But they’ve recently decided to cut Maven out of their deal, and she wants them to pay. Your job is to burn down several of their beehives, and clear out the owner’s safe to see what’s going on. Got it?” Esil nodded.

“So when do I get the same armour you have?” Esil asked.

“Talk to Tonilia.” Mercer waved her away roughly, and the Dunmer turned back to the Ragged Flagon’s entrance.

 

“So you’re the new recruit, huh? Thought you’d be… I don't know, taller. Or bigger. Or… just not you.”

“This a problem?” Esil asked defensively, brushing the hilt of her dagger.

“No, I think you’ll be a decent thief. I just didn't expect a short dark elf, based on Brynjolf’s talk.” Esil nodded. “Any way, here’s your new armour.”

“Do I change here, or…” Esil took the armour and put a hand on her bracer, preparing to remove it. Tonilia stopped her quickly.

“No, no! There’s a room back there, next to the Cistern door. When you approach the door, turn right. It should be empty.” Esil nodded and followed the Redguard thief’s instructions.

She dumped her belongings on the floor, and with unusual speed she removed her belt, dagger and quiver, laid the bow on the ground, and dumped the armour on the floor as well, leaving her in nothing but her underwear. She shivered slightly, quickly pulling her new armour on. As she fastened the quiver to her back she turned, looking at one of the thieves.

“How long you been there?” She asked, walking towards him to leave.

“Name’s Niruin. I find it quite fascinating, how quickly you can move.” He said lazily, leaning on the wall without answering her question.

“It’s a gift. Move.”

“I’m a master archer, if you’re curious.”

“Really.” Esil faced him, trying to move along the opposite wall. The elf leaned forward suddenly, his face right in hers.

“Tell me: where’d you learn to use a bow?” He asked. “I’ve heard whispers of your marksmanship, and I’m curious.”

“I’ve never been to Valenwood, if you’re wondering. I learned the basics from a trader, and the rest was a mixture of hunting and hanging out with bandits.” Niruin looked mildly surprised.

“Bandits?”

“Yeah. Never joined them, but I’d bring in some food from time to time. Never really got threatened by me, I guess.” Niruin nodded and backed off, beginning to head back to the Cistern.

“Good luck on your Estate job.” He called absently. Esil nodded, knowing he couldn't see the gesture.

 

—

 

Three guards stood by the hives. Esil notched an arrow, aiming for the farthest one’s head, to her a silver blur. She gritted her teeth and let it loose, and with a thunk the man fell. Two more arrows and two more bodies littered the ground. She put her bow away and used a firebolt, sending the hives up in flames.

 

—

 

Esil hummed proudly as she strode back into the Cistern, dropping the letter she found on Mercer’s desk. He looked up at her suspiciously.

“That was quick.” He said. Esil raised her eyebrows.

“That an issue? Here’s your letter.”

“Did you look at it?”

“I can’t read.” Esil told him flatly. He nodded, looking at the contents.

“There’s a symbol here. Looks like a dagger. Ever notice something like that?” Esil pushed her face close to the parchment, peering at the symbol.

“No.” Mercer grabbed the paper from her, folding it up quickly.

“Right, then. For now, go talk to Maven Black-Briar. She’s asked for you specifically.” Esil looked blank.

“Who?”

“She’s the unofficial ruler of Riften. She’ll be in the Bee and Barb.” He told the Dunmer.

“All right. Do I get paid?”

“Get out!” Esil scurried off, climbing the ladder quickly.

 

—

 

“Hi. You Maven?” Esil approached a woman sitting regally on a small chair. She frowned.

“Mercer told me he’d send someone competent. Not a disrespectful new thief.”

“Well I’m sorry I’m not who you’re looking for. I’ll just tell Mercer you turned me down. I’m sure he’ll be pleased.” Esil turned calmly to leave.

“Don’t turn your back on me! I still have a job for you!” Esil looked over her shoulder at Maven.

“Waiting.” She said simply.

“Good. There’s a meadery near Whiterun— Honningbrew. Heard of it?” Esil looked blank. “Great. Well, it’s become very wealthy, very quickly. I want to know why. And I want them removed.”

“So I go in, kill the guy and case the place?”

“By the gods, no! There’s a man in there named Mallus. Talk to him.”

“Fine.”

 

—

 

“We have a skeever problem, he said. Just go in and poison the nest, he said.” Esil growled, crouched behind a rock. There was a man down there with the skeevers, throwing fancy magic lightning around and screaming. 

“He’s like me on a bad day.” Esil muttered to herself. Then she grinned, gripping the bow and drawing an arrow. She leaned around the corner and shot him in the head as he ran towards her. She began laughing as she shot down skeevers, and then ran over to the nest, dumping rat poison in it.

“And now the mead…” She turned, looking over at the bodies.

 

—

 

“What is this? This is terrible! I—” The commander of the guard began choking as Esil watched from the corner, completely ignored. The meadery owner was led away in chains, and Mallus looked over at her.

“I think I need access to the guy’s room.” Esil said. Mallus nodded, handing her a key.

 

—

 

“The same symbol. Girl, are you sure you don’t know it?” Mercer asked loudly.

“How could I? I. Can’t. Read.” Esil told him, waving her hand in front of her eyes.

“Fine. Go run some jobs for Vex or something.” Mercer waved her away roughly. Esil frowned but walked away.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 20 chapters already? This is new and different. We’re nowhere near done yet. Help.

Esil wandered into Riverwood, walking towards where the note in Ustengrav said to go.

“So we need to go into the inn and ask around.” Marcurio said. Esil had re-hired him with more promises of riches, and his pockets were still frustratingly empty. “I need to make you pay upfront.” He said.

“Darling, you can’t afford to make me pay upfront. You’d be out a room before I scraped up half the coin needed to hire your sorry ass.” Esil told him.

“I’m going to charge for damages to my self-esteem.” Marcurio told her. Esil shrugged as she pushed open the door to the inn.

“And I’d still give you a hundred septims and tell you to earn the rest.” Esil said. The innkeeper walked over to them.

“Can I help you?” She asked.

“Yeah, where can I find the writer of this note?” Esil replied.

“So it wasn't a trap. Follow me.” Esil looked at Marcurio, who pushed her forward. She followed the innkeeper into one of the rooms, and heard a closet opening and a panel moving.

“Down the stairs, and I’ll explain everything.”

“I have no idea who this person is. It’s definitely a good idea to go into her basement.” Esil muttered to Marcurio.

“After you, leader.” the Imperial replied. Esil shook her head and descended down the steps.

“I’m sorry for all the secrecy, but I didn't know if the rumours of the Dragonborn were just another Thalmor trap.” The woman said.

“Yeah, can I get a name before we dive into this ‘Dragonborn’ shit?” Esil asked.

“Delphine. And I know who you are already, Esil.”

“How the crap could you know that—“

“I have eyes and ears everywhere. Also, Ralof comes in here and talks a lot. Mentioned a dark elf in Helgen that matches your description.”

“And what’s my ‘description’?”

“Short and thin, purple-grey skin, dead white eyes and short black hair. Talks nonsensically at times, can’t see well, and carries a bow and an assortment of arrows.”

“She’s got you pegged.” Marcurio muttered in Esil’s ear. She elbowed him.

“What do you want?” Esil asked.

“I want you to defeat Alduin. By embracing who you are.”

“A semi-criminal Dunmer?” Esil asked.

“No, as Dragonborn.”

“And why would I do that?” Esil asked.

“Because otherwise this world will end!” Delphine snapped. “You know what, just… here’s your horn. Go back up to your Greybeard friends and we’ll discuss this later.” Delphine handed Esil Jurgen Windcaller’s horn, and pointed to the steps. Esil shrugged and carried the horn out.

“She’s always like this. Don't take it personally.” Marcurio told Delphine.

“Then the world is doomed.”

 

—

 

“Esil, what the hell was that?” Marcurio ran down the inn steps and down the road after Esil, who silently carried the horn.

“The hell was what?” Esil asked.

“You just completely blew off that woman! Do you have any idea what you just did?”

“My loyalty right now is to the Greybeards. I don't trust that woman.” Esil told him.

“Your loyalty is to the… Do you even have loyalty?”

“What do you think?”

“You can be loyal to someone? Pledge allegiance? You understand that?”

“Says the sell sword.” Esil reminded him.

“My loyalty is to money, all right?”

“So’s mine. Money and fancy new powers.”

 


	21. Chapter 21

 

Esil slowly padded down into the basement of the Sleeping Giant Inn once more.

“Hi.” She said. Delphine turned to her.

“You finally ready to help?” She asked sharply. Esil simply nodded eagerly. “Good. We’re headed to Kynesgrove.

 

—

 

“You’re following the woman up to the dragon mound?” Marcurio muttered in Esil’s ear.

“You said I was rude, and the Greybeards are mad at me because I was talking to her. I’m going to follow her for a bit.” Esil replied.

A loud roar pierced the air, not unlike the one at Helgen. A huge black dragon was holding himself in place above a mound using huge, powerful wings. 

“Sahloknir, ziil gro dovah ulse! Slen tiid vo!” He Shouted at the earth, and a skeletal dragon erupted from the ground.

“What’s happening?” Esil whispered in Marcurio’s ear.

“A dragon just woke up.” He whispered back.

“Alduin, thuri! Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?” The skeletal dragon spoke as he reformed, flesh and scales forming and spreading across his bones.

“Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir.” The great dragon told him, and then turned to the trio hiding behind the rocks. “Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi.” Esil crept closer when she heard the word ‘Dovahkiin’. He continued, “You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such arrogance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah.” Once more, he turned to the newly-formed dragon. “Sahloknir, krii daar joorre.”

As the black dragon flew off, Sahloknir spread his wings for the first time in centuries, and took to the air. As he wheeled around, Esil drew her bow, standing up and taking aim.

“How are you supposed to hit that thing?” Delphine asked. Esil frowned but didn’t answer, letting her arrow fly, and stabbing Sahloknir’s wing joint. With a scream he fell, crashing into the ground, throwing dirt and grass into the air. As he slowed to a stop Esil took another arrow, notched it, and shooting it into the dragon’s eye. With a roar Sahloknir reared up, his newly mended skin peeling from his bones. As he fell, the cold tendrils encircled Esil, and were absorbed into her skin. For almost ten seconds, her vision was perfect, and she turned to where the two were standing in awe.

“So it’s true. You’re Dragonborn.” Delphine finally said, after Esil’s vision had blurred once more.

“Yup.”

 

—

 

Esil walked up the steps of Markarth alone. Marcurio had left for Riften again, and Esil didn't feel like goading him into service again. She slammed her staff into the ground aggressively as she made her way up to the keep, humming. From what she could see, there were a lot of steps, leading up to stone buildings set in the walls of the cliff. A stream rushed past her down the hill.

 

—

 

As Esil walked into Understone Keep, she looked up at the ceiling where chunks of stone had fallen down.

“Why have they not cleaned this up?” She muttered as she climbed over a piece of wall. As she walked up to the Jarl’s throne, an Altmer stopped her.

“What business do you have here?” He asked.

“Going to see the Jarl. Why?”

“Just be warned, if you have any consorting with Talos worshippers, we will arrest you.”

“Who?” Esil asked. She vaguely remembered one of the Divines being banned, but that was it.

“Talos, the false god. A man that became a Divine after his death. The Thalmor have been sent to remind people of our laws.”

“And the Thalmor are…”

“Representatives of the Aldmeri Dominion. We enforce the White Gold Concordant.”

“Awesome. Can I go now?”

“Just one question—who are you?” The Altmer asked.

“Esil. You?”

“Ondolemar.” Esil nodded and ran off up the steps.

 

—

 

“I’m gonna kill a dragon, I’m gonna kill a dragon…” Esil bounced down the steps past Ondolemar and was forced to stop as he grabbed her shoulder.

“Would you do me a favour?” He asked.

“Will I be paid?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?” Esil asked.

“I want you to retrieve an amulet of Talos for me. It would be in Ogmund’s house.”

“And I’m doing this why?”

“Has our last conversation gone completely over your head?”

“Some of it, yeah.”

“We’ve banned Talos worship. We’re going to root out every last bit of it.”

“How much will I be paid?”

“Five hundred septims.”

“You guys must be desperate. Fine.”

 

—

 

“This is not an amulet, this is cheese.” Ondolemar said as Esil handed him a bag.

“Well I can’t actually see. What does it feel like?” Esil heard a pouch being opened and something pressed into her palm by surprisingly smooth hands.

“Memorise this shape. This is a Talos amulet.” Esil did as she was told, memorising each lump and curve.

“Okay. Can I keep it?”

“No!” The amulet was taken away and Esil was sent back out.

 

—

 

“How about now?”

“Yes, finally. Thank you for not making it out of cheese.” Ondolemar told her. She grinned, cocking her head. She held out her hand and felt a heavy pouch being put in it.

“Awesome. Thanks.” She told him, pocketed it, and ran off, smashing the ground with her staff.

 

—

 

Esil crouched by the sleeping dragon, pulling back her bowstring. She shot it directly in the eye and the dragon reared up and roared, spreading its wings and taking flight. She watched its blurry form rise into the shy and shot at it again, as it circled down lower. She waited until it was hovering before she shouted one of the new Thu’um she’d learned.

“ **Yool**!” She cried, fire spreading from her mouth and hitting the dragon in the face. She shot it with a steel arrow and grinned as it fell to the ground.

“I’m the best.” She said as she grabbed the gold it had in its stomach.

 

—

 

“Jarl! I killed the dragon! Can I have my money now?” Esil shouted as she walked up the stairs. Ondolemar watched her, vaguely annoyed.

“Justiciar, she shouldn’t be wandering in and out like that. Should we question her?” A Thalmor soldier asked.

“Why? There’s nothing that connects her to Talos. Yet.” He told her. “For now we have to let her be.” He watched as Esil leapt off the stairs onto the stone ground, staggered, and ran out of the building.

 

 


	22. Chapter 22

Esil wandered back into Whiterun at around midnight. She charged through the streets, slamming her staff into the ground, and ran up the stairs to Dragonsreach two at a time. She burst through the doors and ran towards where the Jarl’s quarters were.

“Wait!” A guard shouted as she flew past.

“Nope!” She replied.

She threw open the doors to the Jarl’s room loudly, waking him up.

“What in the name of Oblivion are you doing here?” Balgruuf asked.

“I need something to do!” Esil shouted.

“Are you drunk?”

“Nope! I’m energised!” Esil screamed. “Give me a job! I’m bored!” Balgruuf looked her over. She was covered in dirt and dried blood, and had grass stains on her knees. Her sightless eyes were wide and the bow and quiver slung on her back were the cleanest things about her. Her staff was cracked and she had rocks embedded in her hands.

“Where did you come from?” He asked her.

“Markarth!” Esil shrieked.

“Could you please keep it down? There are other people here, you know.”

“Good! They can go find the sheep! And then we can sacrifice the giants to the toe and the cows will sing and—” Esil was speaking incredibly quickly now, and her words were getting messed up. She began rocking back and forth.

“So you rode from Markarth to Whiterun?” Balgruuf asked her quickly.

“Nope! I ran.” She told him proudly. Balgruuf just stared at her.

“You ran. From Markarth to Whiterun.” He said. She nodded, beginning to bounce. “Are you entirely sure that you’re not drunk? Or on skooma?”

“What’s skooma?” Esil cocked her head and Balgruuf assumed that she would try and find some if he explained it.

“Never mind. Aren't you tired?”

“Nope! I want to kill something, where’s your bounties?” Esil said loudly.

“You know what? I don't have any bounties right now. But I know someone who does. Go see Farengar, he probably has some jobs for you.”

“Okay! Thank you, my Jarl!” Esil ran out singing random notes. Balgruuf sighed and laid back down to go back to sleep.

 

—

 

“Farengar wake up!” Esil shouted. The wizard jumped up, flames appearing in his hands.

“Oh, it’s just you. What do you want?”

“Jarl Balgruuf said you’d have a job for me!” Esil said.

“Did he, now? Actually I do. Go find me some nirnroot, all right?”

“I have some right here.” Esil handed him the glowing plant.

“I see. Can you go to Windhelm or something? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Okay!” Esil said and ran off. Farengar watched her go, concerned.

“The girl is crazy.” He muttered and went back to sleep.

 

—

 

Esil charged up the steps to Windhelm at dawn, shrieking.

“Good morning!” She yelled at the guards, who just watched as she ran through the gate. She ran up the steps, tripped and fell in the snow, and just got up and kept running. She saw the Palace of Kings and ran inside. One of the guards from outside the gate ran after her, trying to stop the crazed elf.

Esil heard the arrow before she saw the blurred shaft in the wall next to her. The giddiness was replaced with terror and she ran through one of the doors and up the stairs.

 

—

 

Ulfric heard a loud crash and swearing as he got out of bed and immediately went out the door to check on things. He saw a blur of purple and brown and suddenly was on the ground as a dark elf slammed into him, dropped her staff, got up and kept running.

“My Jarl! Are you alright?” A soldier asked, helping him up.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He said, and then caught the guard’s shoulder as he tried to follow Esil. “Wait. Don’t follow her, you’ll never catch her at this rate. Let me go, and return to your post.” The guard nodded and left. Ulfric picked up the now almost broken staff and followed the elf slowly.

 

—

 

Esil climbed inside a wardrobe and curled up in a ball, shaking. She watched the door to the wardrobe as best she could, and listened carefully for sounds.

“Little elf?” Someone called. “Little elf, I know you’re here. Come out.” She heard doors being opened and things being moved around and curled up tighter in her ball of safety. The door to the wardrobe she was hiding in was opened and she saw a fur-clad man staring down at her.

“I’m not going to jail.” She told him.

“I’m not sending you to jail. Do you know who I am?” Esil shook her head. “I am Jarl Ulfric. Leader of the Stormcloaks.”

“That person? I know you.” Esil said.

“You do? Personally?”

“No. I was at Helgen.” Ulfric nodded in understanding. He recognised her now—the elf that had run into him in the tower at Helgen, the blind dark elf that had followed Ralof up the tower steps.

“Get up.” Esil shook her head. Ulfric frowned and grabbed her arms, pulling her upright. “You need to replace your staff.” He told her as he forced her into standing.

“Why?” She asked. The staff was placed in her hands and she felt the bows and breaks in the wood. “Oh.”

“Come with me. No more hiding in closets, all right?” Ulfric said. Esil nodded.

 


	23. Chapter 23

Ulfric wished that he had let her be arrested for disrupting the peace. The elf was screaming nonsense and running around the throne room, knocking stuff over and trying to take all the cheese. Ulfric just watched with a slightly pained look on his face from his seat on the throne.

“My Jarl, can we please send her away?” His steward pleaded. He shook his head.

“I told her that she could stay here for a while. We have to let her run off whatever mania is affecting her before we just let her run loose.” With a loud crash the two looked up as the door out shut loudly.

“She’s loose.” Jorlief said.

 

—

 

Esil leapt down the steps, singing loudly about apples. She flew past guards and civilians, both of whom looked incredibly confused as to what the girl was doing. Esil ran into the marketplace, glancing around before shouting some more about horses and running towards the graveyard.

 

—

 

“My Jarl, there’s no reason why you yourself should head out after this girl. Send some guards.” His steward argued.

“She’s afraid of the guards. And she’s currently a danger to the Hold. We need to find her.” Ulfric said. A loud crash and shouting from near the marketplace was heard, and Ulfric ran towards the sound.

He walked in and saw Esil sitting in a snowbank, covered in salmon, clutching someone’s shoes. She was rocking back and forth, babbling about goats and dragons, and a very angry, shoeless shopkeep was swearing at her and trying to pry the shoes from her arms.

“Don’t touch my children!” Esil screamed.

“Those are my shoes!” The man yelled back.

“The dragons are going to eat you and your fucking shoes!” Esil threw his shoes back and got up, getting ready to just pick up the salmon and walk away. Then she saw Ulfric. She squeaked and ran off again, this time slamming into a wall and falling down. Ulfric sighed.

“Someone bring her back to the palace. She’s currently under my care.” He said. With murmurs of ‘Yes, my Jarl’ and ‘Of course’, Esil was carried back to the Palace of Kings.

 

—

 

When she woke up she saw a healer bending over her.

“You’ve had a rough two days. Your feet are in a terrible state. Where did your shoes go?”

“They broke somewhere between Whiterun and Windhelm.” Esil said.

“I’m confused as to how you’ve been able to run like this. Your feet are blistered and torn.”

“I ignored it.” Esil said.

“I see. Well, your mania seems to have passed. I’ll finish healing your feet and then you can be on your way.”

“Do I get shoes?” Esil asked.

“Yes, yes you will.”

 

—

 

Esil walked past Ulfric quietly, her damaged staff clutched tightly in her hand.

“I see you’ve calmed down.”

“Yup.” Esil said, heading for the door.

“I’d suggest avoiding the market for a while.”

“I’m not coming back.” Esil told him.

“And why not?”

“Because I have other things to do.” Esil said.

“Like what?”

“Murder.” Esil said casually and left.

 


	24. Chapter 24

Esil wandered back into Whiterun slowly, climbing the stairs and entering Dragonsreach.

“Where did you go?” Balgruuf asked as she sat down at one of the tables.

“Windhelm.” She said.

“You seem upset.” The Jarl said.

“Just sad.”

“Why?”

“No idea. It happens a lot, though.” Esil laid her head down on the table and closed her eyes.

“Would it make you feel better if I handed you a bounty on a giant?” Esil heard a letter being dropped on the table.

“No.”

“How about I hand you some wine?”

“No. Don’t you have other things to do?” Esil opened her eyes and looked at the Jarl.

“It’s been a slow day.” He told her. She nodded and closed her eyes again. She heard the doors open and someone walk up the stairs. Irileth stopped them, exchanged a few words, and then turned to the Jarl.

“My Jarl, it’s a man asking after a blind dark elf.” Balgruuf looked down at Esil.

“What does he want?”

“He wants to know her location.”

“Why?”

“He won’t say.” Irileth turned back to the man and blocked his path as he tried to approach the Jarl.

“Jarl Balgruuf, I need to find her.” Esil opened her eyes as she heard Brynjolf’s voice.

“What do you want, Brynjolf?” She asked.

“It’s been a week. Delvin needs that job done.”

“I don't want to do the job. I want to sleep.” Esil told him.

“Delvin needs you to get your ass back to Riften and give him the stuff.” Brynjolf told her.

“Fine.” Esil said, falling off the chair and standing up slowly. “Let’s go back to shit town.”

 

—

 

Esil handed Delvin an emerald and a ruby and he nodded.

“Took you a while, but good job anyway. Here’s your coin.” Esil nodded and took the money, turning back to Brynjolf.

“I guess that’s it for now. You’re free to go.” Esil nodded.

 

—

 

“Keerava, could you go and wake the elf up? It’s been six hours since she’s supposed to leave or pay up.” Talen-Jei asked.

“Elf?” Marcurio asked from the corner.

“Yes. Came in here last night, dropped some septims on the counter and hasn't been seen since. Marcurio frowned.

“Keerava, you can stay there. I know her.” Marcurio climbed the stairs and opened the door to where the elf was. Sure enough, Esil was in there, except the sheets were off the bed and sticking out from underneath the bed. Marcurio bent down and saw sightless eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing, Esil?” He asked.

“Sleeping.”

“With your eyes open?”

“They don't work. I’m not missing out on anything.” Esil told him.

“And why are you under the bed?”

“It’s dark. I like it. The rest of the room is light. I don't like it.” Esil scooted backwards, farther into the shadows and closed her eyes.

“You need to pay for the room. You needed to six hours ago.” Marcurio told her.

“Don’t wanna move.” Marcurio sighed.

“You know what? Give me the money. I’ll pay for you.”

“Don’t trust you.”

“I’m not going to steal it.” Marcurio heard a series of incoherent mumbles and a jingling, and then ten septims were pushed out from under the bed.

“I’ll be back.” Marcurio told her.

 

—

 

“Here. She’s not moving. She’s alive and awake, but she’s not moving.” Marcurio handed Keerava the gold. She nodded and went back to her work.

 

—

 

“I’m back.” Marcurio sat down on the floor.

“Whoopee.” Esil said.

“You know, I just helped you out. The least you could do is show a little gratitude.”

“Too tired. Later.” Marcurio rolled his eyes as he hear a knife being sharpened.

“What’s wrong with you? You were almost manic in the ruins, and then incredibly rude to everyone we met.” Marcurio said.

“Don’t know. Ran around Windhelm. Tore up my feet. Broke my staff. Too tired.” Esil told him.

“How…never mind. Look, just go to sleep, and I’ll ask you questions later.” He heard Esil moving around and the sheets disappeared under the bed.

 


	25. Chapter 25

“Feel like talking now?” Marcurio asked as Esil crawled out from under the bed.

“No.”

“What do you feel like doing?” Marcurio asked.

“Raiding bandit camps.” Esil said, getting up, dumping the sheets on the bed, and taking her knife, bow and quiver. She slung the bow and arrows on her back and sheathed her knife, and walked out the door.

“There’s the Esil I know and despise.” Marcurio said.

 

—

 

Marcurio decided to just let Esil hum those three irritating notes for as long as she wanted. He hadn't argued about the money, and he didn't feel like telling her to stop making noise. He decided that Esil just did her own thing and he was going to be dragged along for the ride whether he wanted to or not.

She was, however, slightly scary when she was depressed and homicidal.

“Everyone just die already!” She screamed as she shot arrows into bandits’ heads. Marcurio hid in one of the tents, rifling through drawers and chests in search of valuables. When it was silent once more he poked his head out of the tent. Esil was swapping bows again, this time for an elven one. She also grabbed more arrows.

“So, now what?” He asked.

“We go back to Riften.”

“Don’t you have a home?”

“No.” Esil said. She was wearing steel plate armour now, and had dropped her iron armour on the ground.

“So how do you store everything you own?”

“I sell everything.” She told him.

“You don’t have anything that you’d keep?”

“My knife.” She held up her elven dagger.

“I see.” Marcurio knew he’d regret offering, but he was feeling sorry for the elf right then.

“If I offered to let you use one of the chests I have in my room… would you use it?” He asked. Esil cocked her head, thinking.

“I could store extra arrows in there.”

“I’m not just talking about the extra arrows. I’m talking about jewels and armour and clothes you might wear sometimes.” Marcurio said. “A place so you don't have to sell everything you come across.”

“What’s in it for you?” She frowned. The elf was so damn suspicious. Marcurio shook his head.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Fine.” Esil told him.

 

Marcurio watched as Esil dropped iron arrows and Alik’r clothes in the chest.

“I don't even want to know how you got those.” He said.

“Good. Because I’m not saying.” Esil said.

 

—

 

Esil was singing again. This time it was The Dragonborn Comes, which she had heard in one of the taverns. She was grinning as she sang, and Marcurio tried to ignore her. It was hard, however, as her voice would change from being fairly good to breaking and squeaking depending on the verse.

“Would you stop singing about yourself and take some dinner?” Marcurio asked. They were in a cave, crouched around a fire. Esil stopped singing and took some of the soup he had made.

“Finally.” Marcurio said.

 

—

 

As they went to sleep they didn't notice the shadows on the walls were strangely human-shaped. Or the people that slid down from the corners of the cave and crept towards them.

“Take them both. They’ll be useful.”  A woman said. The others grabbed them and silently took them deeper into the cave.

 


	26. Chapter 26

 

Marcurio woke up stiff and upright. He opened his eyes to find himself tied to a training dummy.

“What the hell?” He muttered. He looked up and saw Esil in a cell. “So why am I out here?”

“Because we need target practice, and that one will be more fun to chase down.” A Nord bandit appeared at his side, pulling out a bow.

Esil woke up on a rocky floor. She got up and saw bars.

“Shit.” She said. She walked over and saw the blurred form of someone in yellow robes, and a brown figure pulling out a bow. “Oi! What’s going on?”

“Bandits!” Marcurio shouted.

“Why are you down there?” Esil called.

“Target practice.” Marcurio said.

“Yeah, but why are you… oh.” Esil said quietly. “Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Let him go!” She shouted, leaping up and climbing the bars.

“Get down from there!” Someone shouted and she felt a sword hit the bars. She held on, glaring.

“No! You can’t make me!” She shouted. She heard an arrow hit wood. “Let him go!”

“Or what?” The bandit with the bow asked.

“Or I’ll kill you all!” She yelled. She heard laughing, and another arrow hit wood.

 

—

 

Marcurio flinched as an arrow imbedded itself in the wooden planks next to him. He watched as the bandit swore and took aim again.

“All right, that’s enough.” A woman said. Marcurio looked up as a Bosmer woman walked down the rocky hill towards them.

“Yes, ma’am.” The bandit said and put his bow away.

“Dunmer!” The woman shouted. Esil ignored her, continuing to climb the bars even as she was knocked off by the other bandit. “I’ll give you a chance to go free. Would you like that?” Esil stopped climbing and looked at her.

“By doing what?” She asked.

“Come down here.” The woman said. The door to the cell was opened and Esil dropped down off of the bars. She walked out and over to the woman.

“Well?” She asked. The bandit woman handed her a bow and a quiver of arrows.

“You’re an archer, yes?” Esil nodded. “But also blind. I’ve heard of you. Other bandit clans are terrified that you’ll appear to wipe them out. Tell you what—I’m in need of entertainment. If you can free your friend using your prowess with a bow, I’ll let you go free.”

“What’s the catch?” Esil asked.

“You need to cut his bonds using arrows. Even someone with perfect vision would have trouble.”

“No.” Esil said.

“If you don’t, my bandits will use him for target practice, and you will watch.”

“Fine. Go away.” Esil slung the quiver on her back and gripped the bow. The woman walked up the hill and sat down, watching them.

“Marcurio, where are you tied?” She asked, notching an arrow.

“You’re not serious.”

“It’s a chance at getting out or certain death.”

“It’s certain death for me either way!” Marcurio told her.

“Shut up. Where are you tied?”

“My wrists, my shoulders and my chest.”

“So your legs are free.”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Hold absolutely still.” Esil said, drawing back her string. She saw the cords around his left wrist and shot just above them. With a thud, the arrow cut the rope. She notched another arrow, aiming for the right wrist. With another thud, she hit just above where she needed to. The rope was intact. She felt the eyes of bandits watching her, and shot another arrow. This one was too low, and sliced Marcurio’s wrist as she cut the rope.

“Ow! Be careful!” He shouted.

“I am!” Esil fired the next arrow without thinking and it hit just by Marcurio’s ear. “Oops.”

“Please be careful. I don’t feel like dying this way.” The next arrow hit the rope. Marcurio watched it as it fell and his right arm was free.

“Don’t move that arm.” Esil told him quietly.

“I think we need to stop now.” Marcurio said.

“I think we need to keep going.” Esil replied.

“I think we’re going to die.”

“I think we’re going to live.” Esil told him firmly. She shot another arrow, slicing the ropes around his shoulder. Marcurio held onto the arms of the dummy and nervously watched Esil draw her bow again.

“What’s your chest width?” She asked.

“My what?”

“Chest width! Taking into account your robes and however loose they are.”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I could see where the ropes were on your arms. I can’t hit the ones on your chest because there’s more of them, and tighter.

“About a foot and a half.”

“How loose are your robes?”

“Not very.” Marcurio watched her take aim and then shut his eyes as she loosed the arrow. He felt the arrow slice his chest and let out a shout.

“Damn. I thought I’d aimed right.” Esil said.

“I think I’m bleeding.” Marcurio tried to look down at his side.

“We’ll deal with that soon. I have the aim right this time.”

“You better.” Marcurio told her.

“This has actually gone pretty well.” Esil told him.

“I’ve been hit twice!”

“Better than dead.” Esil shot at him again, slicing the ropes a little more. “One more.” She said, taking aim again. She grinned as she loosed the final arrow, slicing through the ropes and hitting the wooden planks behind Marcurio hard. Marcurio fell down, clutching his side.

“Good job, elf.” The Bosmer woman looked down at her. “But only one of you can leave. Kill him and you’ll be free.”

“What?” Marcurio looked up as Esil drew her bow again, pointing an arrow at his head. “Now? Esil, why?”

“I’m getting out of here, Marcurio.” Esil said. Marcurio tried to see any emotion in her face, but she was blank. Her eyes were unfeeling. Marcurio closed his eyes and looked down and the ground. He heard the twang of the bow.

 


	27. Chapter 27

 

He wasn't dead. Marcurio opened his eyes. Esil had her back to him, and the bandit woman was lying in her chair, head lolling back, an arrow sticking out of her eye and poking out of the back of her head. Esil smirked and turned back to Marcurio.

“But I’m not leaving without you.” She said. They heard the cry of the bandits and Esil leapt over to Marcurio, taking one of her hands and pressing it into his side. She used healing hands on him and then stood.

“Was that a…healing spell?” He asked.

“Yup. Not sure where I learned it. Get up, we’re getting out.” Esil told him. Marcurio nodded and got up, his hands filling with flames and sparks. Esil drew another arrow and shot down a bandit who charged them. Marcurio threw flames everywhere, burning people and structures alike. Esil shot the brown shapes as they entered her vision, and dodged the whizzing sound of arrows. As five bandits charged her she sucked in air and expelled it in a Thu’um.

“ **Fus Roh Dah**!” She Shouted. They flew backward, slamming into walls with a crunch. she grinned and shot down the survivors, turning on the archers up at the top of the cave. She dodged one arrow and shot down the archer who shot it, and watched as the other was hit with lightning bolt and fell to her death.

“That it?” Esil asked.

“Yeah.” Marcurio said, opening a chest and pulling out their weapons. Esil grabbed her new bow and the iron arrows, throwing the old ones away. “I guess I should thank you.” He said.

“Don’t.” Esil told him.

“Why?”

“Because we’re idiots and really should not have gotten into this situation.” Esil began walking out of the cave.

“You still saved my life.”

“After shooting you twice.”

“Like you said, it’s better than death.” Esil smiled weakly.

“I want to get out of here.” She said. Marcurio nodded and watched as she trotted out, swiping a pouch of gold that was laying around. Marcurio sighed and ran after her.

 

Esil was singing again. This time it was only notes, those same three, but her mouth was hanging open and it sounded like she was trying to be a bird.

“Why those three notes, Esil?” He asked. She kept singing, ignoring him. They kept walking in silence as they approached Riften.

“You had better be back by next week.” Esil nodded as the two parted ways again.

 

—

 

“Justiciar?” A Thalmor soldier asked. Ondolemar turned from where he was signing paperwork.

“Yes?”

“The girl’s back.” _Fantastic. A pile of documents to sign and that elf shows up. If she comes in here I’m going to lose it._

“Hi.” Ondolemar threw his hands in the air and walked out of the room. Esil followed him out.

“Any Talos shit needs doing?” Esil asked.

“What could possibly make you decide that bothering me was a good idea?” The Altmer asked. Esil shrugged.

“I’m bored. It’s fun annoying people.” She said.

“Could you annoy someone else?”

“Nope. It’s interesting watching your face change.”

“My face… you’re blind!”

“I can see shapes.  You’re looking funny right now.” Esil told him.

“I’m… go away.” He said, trying to lose her. She followed him through Understone Keep, humming slightly. She froze suddenly, looking up.

“What now?” He asked. She didn't say anything, just drew her bow and shot upwards. A loud shriek was heard and a scantily-clad woman fell down and landed hard on the ground, an arrow in her chest.

“The hell? Guards, search the keep for Forsworn!” Ondolemar ordered.

“What’s that?” Esil asked, poking the body.

“Forsworn. They had taken over Markarth a few years ago. Now they’re trying to reclaim it.”

“Okay. She was going to kill you.”

“What?” Esil held up a dagger.

“Throwing knife. Dipped in poison. Even if the blade hadn't killed you, the poison would have.”

“I see. I suppose I owe you my life then.”

“Second one in two days. Please don't let this become a regular occurence.” Esil said.

“Why?”

“I don't like people thinking I’m anything more than a psychotic murderer.” She said.

“Really? And who have you murdered?”

“That’s a trap question and I’m not going to answer it.” Ondolemar folded his arms and raised his eyebrows. Esil sighed. “Bandits, raiders, Forsworn assassins, dragons and a lot of wolves.”

“So you’re less a murderer and more of an arm of justice.”

“Please shut up.”

“You’re helping people, aren't you? You enjoy it. A vigilante, on the run from the law and yet doing the law’s job.” Esil gritted her teeth as Ondolemar began to smile. “You say that you don't want people to be indebted, but you enjoy it, don't you? You crave power. You crave attention. Because at the end of the day you’re still just a little elf in a big world.”

“I can kill you right now and no one would know.” Esil told him. “There’s a river in the Jarl’s chamber. I can put one of these Forsworn arrows in your head and dump you in the river.”

“I’m sure.” Ondolemar smirked.

“You’re a confident bastard, aren't you?” Esil asked.

“If you’re a murderer, why don't you go ahead and put your plan into action?” He asked. Esil drew her bow and took the Forsworn’s arrows, drawing one back and pointing it at his head.

“Just remember—my soldiers are close by. There are Markarth guards everywhere, and you still have to drag my body past a sleeping Jarl and dump it in the river.” Ondolemar told her.

“You look light.” Esil told him. “Thin build, the only real weight is the robes.”

“And you look weak.” Ondolemar said. “Thin arms, and you’re struggling with that bow.” Esil blinked. “Just admit it—you’re not going to kill me.” Esil put the arrow away, ignoring the outline of the Altmer’s self-satisfied smile.

“Don’t look so confident.” Esil told him, and took the poison the Forsworn had on her. She glanced at the Thalmor before leaving.

 

 


	28. Chapter 28

“So, do you know how we’re going to figure out who’s behind the dragons?” Esil chirped, walking over to Delphine.

“Yes, actually. We’re going to get you into the Thalmor Embassy.”

“All right, let’s—what?” Esil stopped.

“You heard me. We smuggle you in, and you get the information we need.” Esil blinked.

“That sounds…dangerous.” Delphine nodded.

“I know. But it’s the only way. Come on.”

 

—

 

Esil stood in Solitude, dressed in fine clothes that were too big for her, with no weapons, potions or other items, and facing down a carriage as the Bosmer Malborn rode away on a horse.

“Are you ready? Here’s your invitation. You should be able to pass for a guest. At least, until you open your mouth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Esil asked loudly as she was pushed onto the back of the wagon. She watched Delphine as the carriage driver snapped the reins, and the horse began heading up the road.

 

—

 

It was snowing heavily as the carriage pulled up to the Embassy; a cold, bleak set of buildings surrounded by a high stone wall. As Esil jumped off the back of the wagon, she saw a man sitting on one of the rocks.

“Oh look, another late-comer. Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on much. I honestly don’t know why I even bother coming to these things.” When Esil simply tilted her head in interest, he continued, “Name’s Razelan. I work for the East Empire Company. And you are?”

“Esil.” She grinned.

“I’ve waited out here long enough. I’m going inside.” He told her, and began walking towards the Thalmor guards.

—

 

It was warm inside the Embassy. As Esil walked slowly down the hall, a tall Altmer woman approached her.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I am Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador for Skyrim. And you are?”

“Esil.” She said simply.

“I see. It is a pleasure to have you here, Esil.”

“Um, Madame Ambassador?” Malborn asked quickly. Esil used the shift in attention to move past the Altmer quickly, and into the main chamber. She could vaguely make out Ondolemar in the corner, and walked over to him quickly.

“Hi.”

“By the gods, what are you doing here?” He hissed.

“Looking. I have an invitation, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Whatever, I…If you mess anything up.”

“Don’t worry.” Esil said brightly.

 

—

 

As the small Dunmer crept down the hall, now with her reacquired gear, she could hear Thalmor complaining about the mages. Without pausing, she drew her bow, notched and arrow and shot one in the vulnerable part of his body, between the helmet and armour. The second man took an arrow to the face. Esil quickly moved on, slipping out the door and across the courtyard. It was getting dark, and she had no problems eliminating the Thalmor patrolling the yard. 

As she crept into the Solar, she immediately ducked behind a counter, as a Thalmor and a Nord came up the stairs. 

"But, I need that money! I earned it. I have my own expenses you know…" The Nord said loudly. Esil began crawling along the length of the counter, trying to be as silent as possible.  
"Silence! Do not presume, Gissur. You are most useful, but do not presume. We have other informants who are less... offensive.” The Thalmor told him harshly.  
"But no one else has brought you such valuable information, have they? Etienne, he's talked, hasn't he? He knows where that old man is you're looking for, he told me himself.”   
"You'll get the rest of your money when we confirm his story. As agreed.” The voices were getting closer.  
"So he has talked! I knew it!"  
"Everyone talks, in the end. Now, I have work to do. Leave me to it, if you ever want to see the rest of your payment.” The Altmer stated this calmly, as if he were discussing the weather with a stranger.  
"Can I... I could help you. He'd talk to me. He trusts me.” The Nord was practically pleading with the Altmer.  
"You'd like to come downstairs with me, is that it, Gissur? Shall we loose his bonds and put you in a cell together? You can ask him anything you like, and see how he answers."  
"No, no. I'll... I'll wait outside."  
"That would probably be best. Now get out!” The Altmer shouted, and Esil could hear the man running out the door. There were footsteps on the stairs, and Esil took this to mean she could begin moving again. She slowly stood up as a door slammed downstairs, and she immediately began heading down the stairs as well.

She crouched down, listening.

"Stop. Please. I don't know anything else. Don't you think I'd have told you already?"  
 ****"Silence. You know the rules. Do not speak unless spoken to. Master Rulindil will ask the questions."  
 ****"Let's begin again.” The Thalmor man was down below Esil, and she leaned against the railing, nervous.  
 ****"No... for pity's sake... I've already told you everything…" She could hear a man somewhere down below her.  
 ****"You know the rules.” The man screamed, and the sound of a weapon hitting him could be heard.  
 ****"Start at the beginning, as usual. If you persist in this stubbornness I'll have…" The Thalmor man warned.  
 ****"No, wait! I was just... catching my breath... why wouldn't I tell you again? I don't even know anything... There's an old man. He lives in Riften. He could be this Esbern you're looking for, but I don't know. He's old and seemed kind of crazy. That's all I know."  
 ****"And his name is...?"  
"I don't know his name. Like I've told already a hundred-“ Again he screamed, and again the Thalmor simply ignored this, continuing his interrogation.  
"You know the rules. Just answer the questions. And where can we find this nameless old man?"  
 ****"Like I said, I don't know! I've seen him down in the Ratway. Maybe he lives down there, but I don't know for sure."  
 ****"That will be all for now. I must say I continue to be disappointed in your lack of cooperation. I hope next time you will do better."  
 ****"What else do you want from me? I've already told you everything. Listen, if you let me go I can take you to Riften, show you where-“ A loud thud was heard, and he went silent.  
 **“** Silence, prisoner!” Esil had had enough. Seething, she notched her bow and stood up.

“Hey, asshole!” She shouted. The two turned to her, and she shot the soldier in the face, and then readied another arrow. Without any hesitation, she shot the man in the throat, and ran down the stairs. After digging in the chest next to the Thalmor’s desk, she pulled out three dossiers, and pocketed them. She darted over to the cell, unlocking it quickly.

“Hey, hey, wake up. Can you hear me?” She asked softly, gently prodding the man. He looked up, terrified.

“Please, I don’t know anything else!”

“I’m not here to hurt you.” Esil told him.

“Wait, haven’t I seen you around the Flagon before?” Esil nodded quickly, grinning. “Didn’t expect to find a Guild sister down here.”

“I’m here to steal stuff.” She said calmly, and unlocked his shackles. She stood up as the door above them opened, exiting the cell quickly.

"Listen up, spy! You're trapped in here, and we have your accomplice. Surrender immediately or you both die.” Someone shouted.

"Never mind, I'm dead already-“

“Silence, traitor! Move, slowly.” Esil drew her bow, aiming for the golden helmets. With two arrows, two bodies hit the ground loudly.

“Now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life! I hope it was worth it.” Malborn said bitterly as he descended the stairs.

“Sorry.” Esil replied.

 

—

 

“Delphine!” Esil said loudly as she descended once more into the basement.

“What is it?”

“The Thalmor have as much to do with dragons as they do butterflies. But they think some guy named Esbern knows what’s going on.” Esil chirped.

 

—

 

“Jarl, can I have another job?” Esil asked as she turned in the bounty. Balgruuf sighed.

“There’s nothing else that needs killing right now, Esil. That was the last one.”

“You sure?” Esil asked.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thank you, though. You’re doing Whiterun a great service.” Esil grinned and bounded out.

 

—

 

“Arngier?” Esil asked. The Greybeard looked at her. “Who are the Blades? A woman called Delphine talked to me. And I saw Alduin resurrect another dragon. How do I defeat him?” Arngier shook his head.

“The Blades are the sworn protectors of the Dragonborn. And they want you to only fight, instead of training in the Way of the Voice.” Arngier told her.

“And how would I defeat Alduin?”

“He is the bringer of the end times. Maybe this world is supposed to end. Have you considered that?”

“I like this world. I don't want it to end.”

“I will not help you to cause further destruction.” Another Greybeard appeared, and said something that caused the ground to shake.

“Forgive me. I had forgotten my duty. I cannot teach you the Shout needed, but I can point the way. You are going to see our leader, Paarthurnax.”

 

—

 

“Esil?” Marcurio looked up as the elf whacked him in the head with her bow. “What are you doing?” He groaned, climbing out of bed. “What time is it?”

“Midnight, exactly. Get your shoes on, we’re going hunting.”

“Why the hell are we going hunting at midnight?”

“Because they’ll never expect it. Come on.” Marcurio watched, confused, as Esil walked out.

 

—

 

“Esil, are you using Soul Trap with that bow?”

“No.” Esil said as a white soul burst from a downed deer.

“Okay. Why am I here?”

“Because I don't have black soul gems and this is the only bow I have right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Protect me from humans.” Esil ordered. Marcurio looked shocked as she crept down towards a mudcrab. Another flash of light as the soul was trapped.

“Esil, are you all right?”

“No.” Esil shot another elk.

“What’s wrong?” Marcurio was worried now.

“Everything.” She said, and shot a fox.

“Specifics?”

“Dragons are everywhere, there’s a civil war happening, and someone’s asking me stupid questions.”

“Besides that. I know you don't care about those things.”

“I don't think I’m going to survive.” Marcurio just stared at her.

“Um, survive what?”

“This.” Esil waved her arms around. “The war. Alduin. Being Dragonborn. _Everything_.”

“How am I supposed to help?”

“By shooting anything human while I get the soul gems.” Esil glared and shot a goat. Marcurio sighed.

“There’s a bandit camp. Let’s go kill something.” Esil crept towards it.

“I thought we were—” Esil turned and glared at him, her teeth bared. Marcurio gulped and shut up. She turned back and pulled back her bowstring, aiming for the sentry. With a crash he fell, and people began moving.

“Real fucking smooth, Esil.” Marcurio told her.

“Shut up.” She said, standing and walking towards the camp. “ **Yool Tor**!” She shouted, and fire flew out of her mouth, incinerating three bandits. Marcurio watched as she tore through them and returned to him.

“What is going on?” Marcurio asked her.

“I want to see Winterhold.” She said.

“That… makes no sense. But… okay?” He said cautiously. She turned on her heel and began walking to Winterhold.

 


	29. Chapter 29

“Two months. You’ve been wandering around Skyrim for two months. How did you manage to be accepted to both the Bard’s college and the college of Winterhold? Never mind, I don't want to know. The real question is, why are you wearing Thieve’s Guild armour?” Balgruuf stared at Esil as she leaned against a table.

“No reason.” She said, tugging at the black leather. He didn't need to know that she’d killed the Guild Master and fixed the Thieve’s Guild. No one needed to know that. They could all just assume that she’d murdered someone. “Are there any—”

“No. There are no jobs.” Balgruuf looked at her cautiously. “What’s going on, Esil?”

“Nothing.” She told him. _We’re all going to die._ She thought. _We’re all going to die by Alduin because I can't make up my mind about saving people or not._ She turned and left Dragonsreach.

 

—

 

“Hello there, boss. What can I do for you?” Delvin asked as Esil sat down next to him.

“Reinforce the Cistern walls. And stockpile food and water.” Delvin looked confused.

“Why’s that, boss?”

“Because it’s the End Times.”

 

—

 

Esil looked down at the boy.

“You want me to kill the orphanage keeper?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

 

—

 

The woman was as cruel as Aventus had said. Esil had no remorse in slicing her throat and leaving her body lying there. She walked away.

 

—

 

“You did it? Grelod is dead?”

“Yeah.”

“Here. It’s not much, but it should be worth something.” She was handed a plate.

“Thank you?”

 

—

 

Esil woke up to a shrouded woman sitting on a bookcase in a strange house.

“Who the fuck are you?” Esil asked.

“Name’s Astrid. You stole one of our contracts.” _Dark Brotherhood. Great._ Esil thought.

“No offence, but the kid had been doing it for months, and you showed up now? I thought the Dark Brotherhood was supposed to be prompt.” Esil said.

“Listen, I’ll offer you a choice. Since you like killing, and you owe us a kill, I’ve got three people here. One of them has a contract. Figure it out and I’ll let you go.” Esil got out of bed and walked over to the three hooded prisoners. She bent down in front of the Kahjiit.

“Would someone want to kill you?” She asked.

“Many would.” She asked the same question to the woman, a mother, in the middle.

“I don't know!” She asked the third, a mercenary the question.

“Someone wants to kill me? No!” Esil crouched behind the Kahjiit and slit his throat.

“Good job. Come join me in Falkreath.” Esil watched her leave and freed the other prisoners.

 

—

 

“Esil, welcome back to Windhelm.” Ulfric looked down at the elf.

“Let’s go murder Imperials.” She said. Ulfric looked confused.

“You want to join the Stormcloaks?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“No. Go talk to Galmar.”

 

—

 

“Ice wraiths. ‘Go out ant kill an ice wraith to prove your worth!’ ‘Why would a Dunmer want to fight for the Empire?’ I don't know, because I fucking live here? What a strange occurrence, someone wants to fight for their home! Wait, this is my home?” Esil muttered to herself as she leapt from iceberg to iceberg towards the Serpent Stone near Winterhold. “I guess it is now. Morrowind has gone to shit.” She climbed the rocky cliff towards the stone, cursing the air, the water and the ground. “Fuck everything, I’m going back to Morrowind. I don't care if you can't breathe, anything is better than this.” She clambered up onto the rock and saw the glowing outline of the ice wraith. She drew her bow and scrambled to her knees, pulling back an arrow.

“Bye-bye.” She muttered as she loosed the arrow. The ice wraith fell to the ground. “Awesome.” She said.

 

—

 

“Boom! Miss me?” Esil shouted as she burst through the doors of the palace. Ulfric put his head in his hands wearily. “Don’t look like that, it’s not pretty.” She told Ulfric.

“Do you have no care for tradition and common decency?” He asked.

“Not really. Why?”

“Normally when people approach the Jarl, they ask permission and act with respect. You act more like a moon sugar-addled sabre cat.”

“I do my best.” Esil hummed those damned three notes as she walked over to Galmar.

“I hope you’re happy. I went and scaled a mountain for this damn rebellion.” She said.

“Very well. Welcome to the Stormcloaks, dark elf.”

 

—

 

“Cicero.” Esil approached the Keeper, who laughed.

“Oh, hello, Listener! Come to kill me?”

“Yes.”

“Please don’t! Lie! Lie instead! Say anything you want, that you strangled poor Cicero with his own intestines, just let me live!” He lay on the floor, bleeding, and Esil snorted, turning on her heel and walking away.

“Weak.” She muttered. “Not worth it.”

 

—

 

“What happened?” Ulfric rose as a soldier ran in, panting.

“Jarl Ulfric, the dark elf Esil… she’s laid waste to three forts. Single-handedly. The other men are terrified of her. She’s insane, she’s not right in the head. She’s manic, and rides into camp on a demon horse late at night, covered in blood and screaming about dragons.”

“I see. Where is she now?”

“She went ahead of an attack near Falkreath.”

“When she returns, send her back here. I want to speak with her.”

 

—

 

Esil was covered in blood, sweat and dirt. She giggled as she swung her staff and marched up to the palace of kings. The guards watched her warily, not wanting to approach her. A strange assortment of arrows were clumped in her quiver, and she had a new bow, black with glowing red streaks. She walked into the palace proudly, walking up to Ulfric with no fear.

“Well?”

“You went and laid waste to three Imperial forts?”

“Nope. Four. Not counting random ones I’d come across earlier.” She said. Ulfric nodded.

“I see. The men don't like you. Where did you get that demon horse?” Esil shrugged.

“Found it.”

“Go away. I’m done with you for now.” Esil nodded and left.

 

—

 

“Astrid?” Esil asked. The Nord woman looked at her. “Let’s kill the Emperor.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

“All you need to do is find the Gourmet, steal his identity, get into the Emperor’s tower and poison his soup. It’s brilliant!” Festus said. Esil nodded.

“I can’t wait.” Esil said.

 

—

 

Esil walked into the basement of the inn towards an orc.

“Hi.” Esil said. The orc looked at her suspiciously and walked away. Esil crouched down and drew her bow. “Don’t walk away from me like that.” She muttered. She shot him in the back and grinned, scampering over and grabbing his writ of passage and gold, finally dragging his body behind one of the huge barrels of wine. She grinned and ran off.

 

—

 

“Maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you really can do this.” Festus told Esil as she handed him the writ of passage. She grinned. “Here. It’s served me well. I think it will help you. Think of it as an apology. For being so damn curmudgeonly!” Festus handed Esil a ring.

“I will wear it with pride. Thank you.” She said, slipping it on her finger. Festus smirked.

“Now go kill an emperor!”

 

—

 

“Behold—the Gourmet!” Esil said loudly, wearing Thieve’s Guild armour and a chef’s hat. The Redguard cook looked up at her.

“The Gourmet? Oh, it’s an honour. I didn't expect you to be a dark elf.” She said, blushing. Esil nodded, pocketing the salt piles and garlic.

“Let us begin!” Esil waved her hands in the air. “Uh, what are we making?”

“The Emperor specifically requested your signature dish—the Potage de Manifique. I took the liberty of beginning it.”

“Good. Add some horker meat.” Esil handed her a slice.

“All right… anything else?”

“Apples. And cheese.” The woman added them as well, looking back at Esil as she tried to pocket some leeks as subtly as she could.

“And now?”

“Put this in.” Just as Astrid instructed, Esil handed the cook the Jarrin root.

“Are you sure? Anything else and we might damage the flavour…”

“Now, now. Who’s the Gourmet?” Esil asked.

“You are, of course. Forgive me.” The woman dropped the root into the soup. Esil grinned.

“Good. Let’s go upstairs.” Esil told the woman. She nodded.

“I’ll serve the soup. You just stand there and… be amazing!” _I don’t need to try._ Esil thought, grinning.

 

—

 

Esil watched as the Emperor collapsed, his head hitting the table. She heard the breath leave his lungs and smiled slightly. The room erupted into pandemonium. She turned and ran as guards swarmed her. _The bridge. Astrid said it would be empty._

 

The bridge was not empty. Maro stood above it all, glaring, and breaking their deal. He said that the Sanctuary was burning. Esil was helpless to watch as he left, his parting words an order to leave as little of her as possible. She didn't think, simply slicing through the Penitus Oculatus with ease using her axe, and running down the steps and out of Solitude.

 

—

 

The swampy north was empty as Esil ran through it. She grimaced as she passed a mudcrab, but never stopped once. She vaguely remembered Vipir the Fleet’s story about how he ran from Windhelm to Riften because he forgot his horse. Esil decided that she had a lot in common with him right then.

 

—

 

It was night when she reached Falkreath. She ran through the town towards the Sanctuary, drawing her bow. She loosed arrows left and right, taking down everyone who stood in her way. She approached the door and saw the body nailed to the tree.

“No…” It was Festus, riddled with arrows. She bared her teeth. “Everyone is going to die.” She said, and charged into the Sanctuary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	31. Chapter 31

Everything was on fire. Esil coughed as she heard an explosion and the ceiling shook. She ran down the stairs, trying to reach Arnbjorn as he fought soldiers. But as she loosed the last arrow, she was too late, an axe in the back of the werewolf’s head ending his life. She leapt through the fire after a soldier who tried to run, but was shot down mercilessly by her bow. She heard Nazir shouting at someone and followed his voice. She let an arrow loose into the attacking soldier’s head and approached the Redguard.

“Glad to see someone’s still alive. And before you ask, no, I don't think you’re the one who started this. Well, I did, but your saving my sorry hide just changed my mind.” Esil nodded, and leapt to the side as part of the ceiling caved in. “We need to get out of here! Follow me!” Nazir ran through an empty doorway, forcing Esil to follow.

 _Listener, I am your salvation. Embrace me._ The Night Mother’s voice echoed in Esil’s head. She veered away from Nazir and headed to the coffin without thinking, climbing inside and letting the lid shut. She heard a crash and another explosion, and then the sound of something heavy hitting water. _Sleep._ The Night Mother ordered, and Esil did.

 

—

 

When she awoke it was to the coffin being drug out of the water. _Find Astrid._ The Night Mother whispered to her. Esil could hear Nazir and Babette arguing, and felt the coffin being lifted upright. The doors opened and she flinched at the light. Nazir looked at her worriedly.

“Whoa, there, slow down. It’s all right.” Esil said nothing, but ran off towards where Astrid usually was. She closed her eyes when she saw their leader. Astrid was burnt, barely recognisable and lying on the ground inside a circle of candles.

“No…”

“I am so sorry, Esil. I never meant for this to happen. Maro promised to leave us alone. But he lied. And now everyone is dead. Because of me.”

“And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Kill me. I prayed to the Night Mother. I am the Black Sacrament. And I’m the contract.” Astrid brushed against a dagger. “Kill me.” Esil closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“Go on, Esil. End her suffering.” Esil grabbed the knife robotically, lifted it above her head and stabbed Astrid. _So it is done. May she find redemption in the Void._ The Night Mother’s voice echoed in Esil’s head. Esil shook her head, trying to clear her brain. _And now we continue the contract. Emperor Titus Mede II will die._ Esil’s eyes widened.

“The contract is still on.” She said.

“What? But everyone’s gone.” Nazir said.

“We’re not. We’re what’s left of the family, and we’re going to build a new one. There’s another Sanctuary in Dawnstar. Head there—I’ll finish what we started.” Esil said confidently. Nazir nodded.

“All right. Come back with a barrel full of gold, all right?” He walked away. “Babette, my girl, pack your things. We’re moving.”

 

—

 

“Do you have any idea how bad your security is?” Esil strolled into the Emperor’s chamber. He looked up calmly, smiling slightly.

“One of the Dark Brotherhood assassins, I presume.”

“And you’re the Emperor.”

“So little respect from so little a Dunmer?” The man asked.

“I don’t show respect to anyone, and you’re no different.”

“I see. Before you kill me—don’t look at me like that. I know what has to happen. I have to die, and you have to be the one to do it. But before you do… would you sit down and talk? Humour an old man before his death?” Esil nodded, taking a seat across from the Emperor.

“I see that you don't have much in the way of eyesight. Tell me, were you born with it, or is it recent?”

“About a year ago I got cursed.” Esil said nonchalantly.

“I see. And you’ve adjusted well, I take it?”

“More or less. I can see colours, shapes and outlines, but not details. I need people to read me any letters couriers bring, and I’ve sorted my septims into different sized bags based on the amounts inside.” Esil told the man.

“Fascinating.”

“Tell me something about yourself, will you?” Esil cocked her head. The emperor nodded solemnly. “Why let the Thalmor overrun Skyrim? Why let them wander Tamriel?”

“Because if I did not, Tamriel would be destroyed by the Aldmeri Dominion. They are more powerful than us, and they know it. I know I have become unpopular and hated because of this, but would it be worth watching your home burn to the ground if you rebelled?”

“I think the Stormcloaks are already doing that.”

“I know. And they’re going to learn that the Thalmor are dangerous, cruel and stronger than they have expected.” The emperor opened a drawer and offered Esil a boiled creme treat. She declined, and the Emperor calmly munched on it.

“Now, tell me, little elf—you wear Thieve’s Guild armour, and use a daedric bow, and yet you are part of the Dark Brotherhood. How is that possible?”

“I fought a daedra for the bow, and I lead both the Guild and the Brotherhood.” Esil said.

“So I am talking to not just an assassin, but an incredibly good one at that?”

“That’s what they tell me.” Esil said.

“Thank you, little elf. I’m ready, now. But before I die, there’s just one more favour I’d ask of you.”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“Kill the man who ordered my death, yes?” The emperor looked at Esil with a quiet ferocity that made her wish she had gotten to know him more than the few minutes they had spent talking. Esil stood, drawing her bow.

“I’ll kill him. Morals may be suggestions, but last wishes are my code.” She said, pulling back the bowstring.

“A bowman? How do you do it?”

“The same way the Falmer do. Listening, and feeling my surroundings. Smelling the air to find the enemy. With the Thu’um at my disposal, a lack of sight is not as much a disability as it might have been.” Esil told him. He nodded.

“Thank you, elf—for going along with an old man’s last request.” Those were his final words as one of the Forsworn arrows Esil collected entered his back.

 

 

 


	32. Chapter 32

Esil walked into the Bannered Mare in Whiterun, heading into the back room and standing in front of Amaund Motierre.

“I’m done.” She said.

“I know. I just received the news—apparently Forsworn attacked the ship, judging by the arrows left behind. There weren't any survivors, and the Emperor lies dead. Congratulations.”

“And the payment?” Esil asked.

“The dead drop is in Voluunrund, where we first met. I think you’ll find it adequate.” Esil nodded, climbing on the table behind the man.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Fulfilling a last request.” She said, and shot him in the head.

 

—

 

“I came back with a barrel full of gold, 20,000 worth. I came back to an ugly shit hole, full of rubble and dust.” Esil sang as she walked down the stairs towards Nazir.

“20,000? He didn't cut any corners.” Esil nodded. “Tell you what—go talk to Delvin. He’s an old friend of the Brotherhood. He can probably fix this old place up.”

“All right.” Esil said. She walked out of the Sanctuary and immediately shut her eyes. She hadn't expected there to be sunlight, or for her eyes to react to it. She began walking towards Dawnstar and heard footsteps approaching from farther down the beach. She turned, opening her eyes slightly and saw a brightly coloured man in front of her.

“Listener!” It was Cicero.

“What in the name of Sithis… I thought you were going to disappear.” Esil said.

“No. Cicero has come back to kill the Listener and become the Listener for the Night Mother! He deserves it more than you!” Esil silently drew her bow. Then he began laughing. “Oh, Listener, you do not disappoint! The look on your face, you seemed to be ready to kill everything! Cicero was simply jesting with the Listener. He knows he cannot be Listener, and so he will do his best to help the actual Listener.” Esil nodded.

“Okay. Follow me. We’re going to Riften.”

 

—

 

Cicero was enjoying himself as they walked down towards the Temple of Mara, the cemetery, and the Thieves Guild secret entrance.

“Cicero, I don't want you to steal or kill or maim anyone, or even make a move to do so. If you try anything I will drag you back to Dawnstar and lock you in the crypt. Understand?” Esil said harshly. Cicero nodded solemnly.

“Oh yes, Cicero understands, Listener. Cicero will follow orders.” They entered the Cistern.

Inside there were two new thieves, a Dunmer and a Nord. Esil breezed past them and into the Ragged Flagon.

“Delvin!” She said.

“Hey, boss. What can I do for you today? I’ve got a few jobs, if you're interested.” The Breton man looked at her expectantly.

“Not today. I need you to set up some stuff in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary in Dawnstar. Can you do that?”

“Of course I can. Heard the one in Falkreath was destroyed. Terrible shame, that.”

“I know. Here—see what you can do with this. A garden, a secret exit, and tidying up the sleeping quarters would be nice. Other than that, you’re free to go crazy with it.” Esil said.

“All right, boss. Hurry back when you need some extra coin, all right?”

“You know I will.” Esil grinned, that pointy, sharp grin, and walked out.

 

—

 

“Delvin, you’ve outdone yourself.” Esil said as she walked back into the Sanctuary. There were torches and banners on the walls, and strange smells came from a small, dark garden. She smelled fire and cooking food and leapt down the stairs towards Nazir.

“I knew you could do it.” Nazir said. Esil grinned, cocking her head.

“Delvin and I are friends. I think he gave me a discount.” Esil said calmly.

“Either way, he’s really outdone himself this time. Thank you, Esil. You’ve done us a great service.” Esil hummed as he turned back to his book.

 

—

 

“Dark Brotherhood, Dark Brotherhood, huge and scary once again. Big and bad, don't be sad, if you’re good you won’t be… dead.” Esil said off key as she shot the grey blob that was a horker. Cicero danced along to her tune, humming along with her.

 

 

 


	33. Chapter 33

“I really don't want to do this whole ‘Dragonborn’ thing. I mean, the respect is nice, but do I have to go fight the apocalypse by myself?” Esil asked. Ondolemar glared at her.

“You may not have standards, nor does anyone else hold you to a certain standard, but you have a duty to Tamriel.”

“I never asked for it.”

“And I never asked to be Justiciar. I was chosen, as were you. And I bear this mantle with pride.”

“Because kidnapping people and spreading utter terror across Skyrim in the attempts to stomp out Talos is a great thing to be proud of.” Esil said flatly.

“Silence yourself.” Ondolemar said harshly. Esil glared at him, opening her mouth to say something else. He clapped a hand over her mouth, earning a confused look from one of his soldiers. “Watch your tongue. The soldiers are not as willing to hear dissent as I am.” He added in a softer tone. Esil removed the hand.

“Your gloves taste awful.” She said simply.

“My gloves…never do that again.”

“Never put your hand on my mouth again.” Esil told him. He sighed. “The female soldier’s been staring at you for the past half hour. Does she have a thing for you?” Esil asked. Ondolemar looked aghast.

“What? No! No, she’s suspicious of you. She thinks you’re a Talos worshipper.”

“Always back to Talos. Don't you have other hobbies or something?” Esil asked.

“This is serious. She’s waiting for you to slip up, do something stupid, give her any reason to arrest you—and she’s going to drag you to the Embassy herself if she can.”

“Ambitious.”

“Do you care about anything?” Ondolemar asked.

“No.” Esil said lightly.

“So, even if it costs all of Tamriel, you’re going to go ahead and do whatever you feel like?”

“Yup.” Ondolemar grabbed her arm and dragged her into his quarters, slamming the door, whirling around and shaking her by the shoulders.

“Do you not care that people will die? Do you not care that this world will end?” He asked.

“Yeah, I care. I just don't think I’m the best person to do this.” Ondolemar let his head drop down to his chest, still holding Esil’s shoulders.

“You’re the only one who can save Tamriel.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if the world ended for you? No more Talos worshippers.” Esil said.

“You’re a damn fool.” Ondolemar let go of her and strode to the other side of the room. “The end of the world is not an ideal option for me, because everyone will die. I’d rather not have everyone die.”

“Only a select few?” Esil asked.

“Yes, I—no. No, Esil.”

“Really. You keep telling yourself that, dear.” Esil leaned against the stone wall.

“I’m going to ask again—will you put away your pride and save the world?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m a blind asshole who is prone to homicidal manias and has no soul.” Esil told him flatly.

“You’re not an asshole. I’m still trying to figure out whether or not you have a soul, but you’re definitely not an asshole.” Ondolemar told her. She shrugged.

“I’ll try to fix everything.” Esil told him.

“Good girl. Go, will you? I have a Keep to oversee.” Esil grinned and walked out, brushing past an incredibly confused Thalmor soldier.

“Justiciar, what was she doing?” Ondolemar leaned against a wall.

“She and I needed to have a little chat. We did, and now everything is fine.” Ondolemar told her.

 

—

 

“Jarl Balgruuf, I’m concerned about your newest Thane. The little elf.” Irileth folded her arms, waiting for the Jarl’s reply.

“Esil? Why?”

“There have been reports of Imperial camps and forts being torn apart by something, and Esil has been seen close by every time.”

“She’s free to go about as she wishes.” Balgruuf said.

“There are also rumours that she leads the Dark Brotherhood. And the Thieves Guild.”

“That’s impossible. I highly doubt Esil would be that stupid as to—” The two turned as Esil bounded through the doors, singing random notes.

“Please don't let this be a repeat of last month.” Balgruuf prayed.

“Jarl.” Esil said, running on by him and up the stairs.

“That was odd.” Proventus commented. Balgruuf stood and followed her up the stairs. He found her on the great porch where Numinex was once held, muttering and mapping out things with her hands.

“Esil? What are you doing?”

“Trying to trap a dragon.” Esil replied.

“Trying to trap a… were you going to inform me of this?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d forgotten about that part.”

“Esil, I’m a bit concerned about your mental state. Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I be?” Esil asked, cocking her head.

“Your general behaviour is worrisome sometimes.”

“Okay.” Esil said and went back to plotting things with her hands.

“Either way, you’re not trapping a dragon here.”

“I’m…what?” Esil stopped messing with her hands and looked at him.

“I said, you’re not trapping a dragon here.”

“Why not?”

“Because right now both the Imperials and the Stormcloaks are poised to take over Whiterun if we show any weakness, or have any distractions.” He told her.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Talk to Tulius and Ulfric. Make them call a halt to the war for now. After that, we can talk about this dragon business.” Balgruuf told her. Esil nodded.

 

—

 

Were peace talks supposed to have this much arguing? Esil put her head in her hands. Ulfric wanted Markarth, Tullius wanted Riften, and Arngier wanted them to shut up and get back to business. Several well-timed words from one of the Blades, and Elenwen being thrown out of the council calmed things down.

“Dragonborn?” Esil looked up quickly.

“What?”

“We’ve reached an agreement. The war will stop for now. Both sides will resume once Alduin has been defeated.” Arngier said.

“Awesome.” Esil said. “How long will that be?”

“Elf, your games are tiring. The Greybeard has spoken, and I expect you to hurry up and defeat this menace.” Tullius said harshly.

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.” Esil stood and walked out of the room, leaving the two sides to watch her retreating back. She pushed past Elenwen and ignored Delphine’s attempts at conversation, heading back to Whiterun.

 

—

 

“Are you sure this will work?” Balgruuf asked as they stood on the Great Porch. It was dark and cloudy, the only light coming from the town and the torches the guards held.

“Nope. But it’s a start.” Esil said calmly. Balgruuf hoped that she wouldn’t hit one of her manic phases within the next few hours.

“Call the dragon.” He said.

“Is that fear I hear, Jarl?” She cocked her head.

“Yes, Dragonborn. It is.” Balgruuf snapped.

“Okay. I’m about to pee.” Esil told him. Balgruuf raised his eyebrows as Esil Shouted “ **Od Ah Viing**!” They waited, Esil wondering why her heart was beating that loudly, and Balgruuf trying to keep his breathing in check. A roar was heard in the distance, and the guards drew their weapons. Esil crouched, drawing her bow, trying to pick out movement in the black sky. The roar was louder this time, and a red streak grabbed one of the guards.

“Shit.” Esil said, shooting at the dragon.

“Lead it back, lead it back!” Balgruuf shouted at everyone. She nodded, shooting arrows while the guards tried not to get roasted by the dragon’s fire breath.

“Oi, come and get me!” Esil shrieked, shooting it in the snout. It roared and landed on the open part of the porch, following her into the huge room. She kept backing up, her eyes wide, a terrified grin on her face. Then, _bang_ , the yoke fell down, the dragon’s neck was caught, and Odahviing was trapped.

 

 


	34. Chapter 34

“Marcurio?” Esil called quietly. The Imperial started, sitting up in bed quickly. He looked over at the elf as she stood by the chest. She let the lid drop loudly and blinked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Are we friends?” She asked.

“Um, yes, I guess so. Why?”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure someone would miss me.”

“Someone would miss… what are you doing?” Marcurio stood up quickly, crossing the room in two steps. “Why are you saying this?” He looked down at the elf.

“I trapped a dragon in Whiterun. I’m going to defeat Alduin.” Esil told him.

“You’re worried he’s going to kill you?”

“Dying isn't the part I’m scared of.”

“Well, no offence, but how hard can it be?”

“I have to go to Sovngarde.” Esil looked him in the eyes. “And I don't know how I’m getting back.” She was suddenly enveloped in arms. She looked at the side of Marcurio’s face.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“Saying goodbye.” Marcurio muttered. “When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I get back to Whiterun.” Esil told him. He let her go, holding her shoulders.

“You wanted to know what the amulet of Mara did, right?”

“It tells people that you’re available for hire, right?”

“No, you think it means that. I said it meant that I was available. As in, for marriage.” Esil nodded.

“Oh. Okay. That explains a lot. Some of the bandits had them and I was confused.” Esil told him and turned to leave.

“Are you really that oblivious?” Marcurio asked

“To what? You just told me the answer.” Esil leaned on the doorframe, facing him again.

“If you return from Sovngarde, would you marry me?” Marcurio asked. He resisted the urge to laugh as the Dunmer girl was struck dumb, possibly for the first time in her life.

“Um…” She said.

“Look, just forget it, you don't need to respond. Just forget I asked.” Marcurio said quickly.

“No, no it’s fine. I thought people courted first, though.”

“Well, here in Skyrim people tend not to live as long, so they don’t court. It’s more of a mutual agreement to cohabitation than anything else.”

“A what now?” Esil cocked her head.

“We’d live together.” Esil nodded.

“Okay. So if I say yes, we’d live in this room?”

“If you wanted to. Don’t you have a house?”

“No. I carry everything I own. Except the stuff in the chest.”

“Yeah, I noticed you have a large collection of cheese in there.”

“Yup.” Esil told him.

“Can I eat or sell some of it? It’s going to go bad.”

“Sure, do whatever you want with it. Just don't touch my shiny things.”

“The jewels or the plates?”

“Both.” Esil hugged him, jumping up and grabbing him around the shoulders, forcing him to support some of her weight.

“Remember your healing potions. Bring all your arrows. Don't forget your axe, the dagger would be good, and—“ Esil shushed him with a gentle hand to his lips.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been doing this for a while now.” Esil told him.

“Come back, all right?” He asked.

You got it, boss.” Esil let him go and bounded out.

 

—

 

“Odahviing, I’ve taken your request into consideration.” Esil said, walking back onto the porch.

“And, Dovahkiin?”

“I’ve decided to trust you. I will let you go, and you will take me to Skuldafn. If you double-cross me, I will kill you and absorb your soul.” Esil told him.

“I see. I will take you to Skuldafn. Now free me.” Esil nodded, and walked up the stairs and over to one of the gears.

“Release the dragon!” Esil shouted. Balgruuf looked up at her.

“What are you thinking?” He asked.

“Trust me, Jarl. It’s the only way.” Esil said.

“Fine. Do as she says!” Balgruuf shouted. The clanking of gears were heard, and the yoke lifted. Odaviing shook himself and walked over to the edge of the porch. Esil jumped down and ran over to him.

“Are you ready to see the world as only a dov can?” He asked. Esil nodded.

“I’m ready.” She said.

“Climb on. I’m afraid that your envy of the dov will only increase, little mer. Hold on!” Esil grabbed his horns, giving a backward glance at Balgruuf, and then they were in the air, gaining altitude over Whiterun. She could see people looking, pointing and probably shouting as the dragon climbed into the air.

 

—

 

The world was huge, Esil realised. She could barely see anything, but the feeling of near weightlessness, and the wind in her face was amazing. She grinned, sitting up straighter on Odahviing’s head, and began laughing. She could feel the neck muscles of the dragon shift and tighten as he moved through the air. She could see far down below her the river that ran from Markarth to Riften, and little boats in spots. Windhelm, Winterhold and Dawnstar were nearly obscured by snow, as was High Hrothgar. Ivarstead was safe from the bad weather, nestled at the base of the mountain. Odahviing began picking up speed as they neared a huge mountain obscured in fog. He slowed abruptly and landed down on an old stone platform. Esil climbed off his head and looked at him.

“If ever you need my services again, simply call my name. I will answer.” Odahviing said.

“Thank you.” Esil smiled, and he took off, climbing high into the sky away from her. She drew her bow and approached Skuldafn.

 


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re not done yet. We’ve got a ways to go before we’re done.

Esil crept by the bodies of Draugr, searching for the Deathlord she had heard earlier. She turned a corner and immediately flung herself back, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily. It was right there. She was right next to it. She couldn't do anything. It was right beside her. She was going to die.

Esil forced herself to take a deep breath and draw an arrow quietly and calmly. She felt the wildness creeping up on her, and she forced it down. She could not become a giggling, wild monster right then. She aimed for the Deathlord’s head and fired her arrow. With a growl it fell to the ground. She didn't stop to loot the bodies, instead running on towards the Dragon Priest and the portal to Sovngarde.

 

—

 

With one last cry, the Dragon Priest fell to the ground, exploding into ash. She grabbed his mask and his staff, giggling slightly, and ran up the stairs. She saw the dragon that was sitting on one of the columns, just watching her, and kept it in the corner of her eye as she placed the staff in its post hole, and watched as the ground in front of her caved in, turning into a swirling, wild purple and blue vortex. She took a deep breath and jumped in.

 

—

 

Esil landed hard on the ground. She looked up and immediately covered her eyes.

“Everything’s clear.” She whispered, uncovering them slowly. She could see with perfect vision. There were robed statues lining a foggy path, and the sky above was a magnificent vortex of colour. She walked down the path quickly, wanting to stop and admire the world, but forcing herself to stay focused. She saw a man in blue and ran up to him.

“Greetings, friend.” He said.

“Hi.”

“Turn back now. Alduin is devouring the souls of all who  try to reach Sovngarde.”

“I’m here to kill him. I can get you there.” Esil said.

“You can?”

“Yes, take my hand and run for it!” Esil said, grabbing his wrist and yanking him down the path. She had seen a huge building from up top, and now she ran towards it. A deafening roar shook the ground and Esil was knocked down.

“No!” She cried as the Stormcloak soldier was grabbed by Alduin. “No…” She got up and kept running, slamming into a man in fine robes.

“Watch yourself, elf.” He said.

“You seem familiar.” Esil said.

“I am… _was…_ High King Torygg. And now I am simply a lost soul.”

“I know where the Hall is. Come with me, please.”

“No. Alduin’s gaze is penetrating. I cannot.”

“Fine. But when I defeat him, I’m leading you back here.” Esil said and ran on. She approached a huge bridge made out of bone, with a broad man guarding it. She stopped.

“What right do you have to enter the Hall?” He asked.

“Right of birth. I’m Dragonborn.” Esil told him.

 

—

 

The hall was huge and golden. Music played and people talked jovially. Esil walked down towards the  huge table laid out and was stopped by a Nord.

“What brings a living person here?” He asked.

“I have to defeat Alduin.” She said.

“The Tongues are over there. They’ve been waiting for you.” He told her.

“Thank you.” Esil said. She walked towards them, and they greeted her warmly.

“Welcome, Dragonborn.” One said.

“Hi. Where do we start?” Esil asked.

“First we must destroy the fog. Follow us.” The woman told her. She nodded and left the Hall.

 

Outside the fog was thicker than ever, and Esil found it hard to breathe.

“Use the Clear Skies shout! We have to get rid of this fog!”

“ **Lok Vah Koor**!” Four voices Shouted at the sky, and for a moment the fog was gone. Then a booming voice echoed throughout Sovngarde, and the fog was back.

“Again!”

“ **Lok Vah Koor**!” Three more times they Shouted, until the fog was finally gone. Esil’s stomach turned to ice as she saw a black shape rising into the sky.

The fog cleared, Alduin climbed into the sky, and Esil could see everything.

 

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

Alduin Shouted down at them, sending fire from his mouth.

“ **Yool Tor Shul**!” He Shouted. Esil watched in horror as she tried to avoid the flames.

“Use Dragonrend, it’s the only way!”

“ **Joor Zah Frul**!” Esil Shouted without thinking, and Alduin staggered. His wings failed and he landed hard on the ground. Immediately Esil shot at him, hitting his eyes and snout. With a roar of rage and pain Alduin Shouted more fire at her. He fought off Dragonrend and leapt into the air again. Esil shot at him once more, and then Shouted him down from the skies.

Over and over they did the same thing, Shout down the dragon, attack him, and then watch as he got back up again. Finally Esil shot him in the chest and he rose up on his back legs, his head twisting backward to stare at the sky, and with a final roar he collapsed and did not move.

“Is it over? Is he dead?” Esil asked quietly, breathing hard.

“Yes. Thank you, Dragonborn. You have done Skyrim a great service.” The woman told her. She nodded, and looked down the path.

“Are you ready to return?” The bridge guardian asked.

“No, there’s something I need to do first.” Esil told him and ran down the path. There was Torygg, looking confused and slightly relieved.

“High King, would you follow me?” She asked quietly.

“You killed that beast, yes?” Torygg asked. She nodded. “Lead on, hero.” Esil led him to Shor’s Hall, and there left him to journey on. She walked over to the bridge guardian and nodded.

“As a parting gift, I will teach you a Shout that will allow you to summon one of the three Tongues, if ever you need it.” He told her. Esil felt knowledge being pushed into her brain, and a glowing Shout plastered itself over her eyes for a moment.

“Thank you.” She said.

“ **Nahl Dal Vus**!”

 

—

 

Esil was sitting on her ass on a rock at the Throat of the World. She looked up as the blurred forms dragons circled the mountain, and Paarthurnax spoke to them in their language, finally turning back to her.

“Welcome back, Dovahkiin.” He said.

“Hi. Alduin is dead.”

“I know. I will mourn, for he was my brother, but I know why you had to kill him.”

“I just want to sleep.” Esil said.

“I understand. Know that with Alduin dead, I will try to control the dragons, and keep them in line. And if they will not hear my voice, they will know my Thu’um!” Paarthurnax took off once more, circling high above the mountain, and disappearing into the clouds. Esil sighed and flopped backward onto her rock.

“Do not sleep here, Dovahkiin.” Esil opened her eyes and saw Odahviing.

“I know. It’s tempting, though.”

“I understand. But you must keep moving. Soon you may rest.” Esil nodded and stood up, clutching her bow.

 

—

 

She walked into the Bee and Barb around midnight three days later, drenched to the bone from the raging storm outside. Esil had slept for about six hours total, and she was ready to sleep for a day. She climbed the stairs and entered Marcurio’s room silently, dropping her quiver and arrows on the chest. She saw his sleeping form and simply curled up next to it, pushing him against the wall.

 

Marcurio woke up to another body next to him. He almost attacked it, but quickly calmed down as he recognised the purple skin and wild, short black hair of Esil.

“Idiot.” He muttered. He didn't want to get up just yet, so he laid there, using Telekinesis to pull a book over to him.

 

When Esil woke up she squeaked and rolled off the bed.

“This was built for one, Esil.” She looked up from the floor and saw Marcurio reading.

“I was tired. Am tired. Need to sleep.” Esil laid back down on the floor and closed her eyes.

“Get up, Esil. You have a deal to make good on.”

“Can it wait? I just beat a fucking apocalypse. I almost died. Multiple times.” Esil began crawling under the bed.

“No. Up, you'll feel better once you're moving.” Marcurio told her.

 

—

 

“What did Sovngarde look like?” Marcurio asked Esil as they walked toward the Temple of Mara. It was still raining, and lightning lit up the sky in three second bursts.

“Cold and foggy. But then sunny and warm.”

“That’s specific.”

“Well excuse me, I can’t actually describe it!”

“You had said that you could see.”

“There were statues. The sky was fucked up. The Hall was huge and pretty. Alduin was a piece of shit and hard to kill. There was a bridge guardian and the bridge was made of something’s spine.” Esil told him.

“Fine, I’ll just see it when I’m dead.” Marcurio said. Esil nodded.

“Okay.” They entered the Temple.

 

 


	37. Chapter 37

“Welcome, children.” The priest said.

“Hi.” Esil replied.

“This is Esil.” Marcurio told him. “She’s the one I told you about.”

“I see. My name is Maramal, little elf.”

“Why does everyone say I’m little? I’m five foot three.” Esil muttered in Marcurio’s ear.

“Exactly.” Was the reply. Esil whacked his arm.

“Are you ready for marriage? This isn't a commitment to make lightly.” The Redguard man said.

“Sir, I don't go back on deals.” Esil told him. Marcurio whacked himself in the face with his hand.

“But do you love him?” Maramal looked at her pointedly.

“Sure. He’s an asshole, but sure.”

“Well this is going to be a shitty relationship.” Marcurio muttered. Esil snickered.

“Why don't you come back when you’ve made up your mind?”

“No, I have. Let’s get married, I probably won’t screw that up.” Esil said brightly. Maramal shook his head and led them to the front of the temple. Esil cocked her head to the side as she was placed on Marcurio’s left, and they both faced the statue of Mara.

“We join today these two in holy matrimony, forever and always. We ask Mara for her blessing upon them, may they live long in prosperity.” The priest said, raising his hands. “Do you, Marcurio, take this young elf as your wife?”

“I do.” He said, looking at Esil. She cocked her head again, the strange muscle tic that normally accompanied curiosity and excitement.

“And do you, Esil, take this Imperial as your husband?” Her head was up again, and her sightless eyes moved to Marcurio’s. She grinned, that strange sharp-toothed smile reminiscent of a Bosmer’s.

“Sure— I mean, I do.” Esil quickly corrected herself.

“Then as a symbol of their union, we present these rings for them.” Esil and Marcurio were handed small silver bands. Esil pulled off her glove and slipped the ring on. She pulled her glove back on and with no warning tackled Marcurio in a hug, wrapping her legs around his waist and causing him to stagger and hold her.

“What the—”

“Shush, you.” Esil told him, grinning. Marcurio laughed and carried her out of the Temple as she waved to the priests, who just smiled.

“Thank you!” She shouted as the doors shut.

“That was a strange elf.” One priest commented.

“I know. I hope Marcurio knows what he’s getting into.” Maramal replied.

 

—

 

Marcurio carried Esil through the streets of Riften as she shrieked wildly, passing shopkeepers who gave them strange looks, and guards who shifted uncomfortably. Only as they blew through the doors of the Bee and Barb did Marcurio set Esil down, and even then he spun her around.

“Why didn't you act like this earlier?” Esil asked.

“Don’t worry, I’m still going to rib you mercilessly and question every decision you make.” Marcurio told her.

“Oh goody. Well, what do you want to do?”

“I want to drink.”

“Already? We’ve just started!” Esil said, putting some hurt into her voice.

“Oh shush, you. As a toast, not an attempt to ignore everything.”

“Okay then.” Esil said brightly and was plopped down at a table, and a tankard was handed to her. They made a toast and drank deeply.

 

—

 

Five tankards later and Marcurio was wasted while Esil was merely tipsy. She giggled as she dragged him upstairs, tossing Talen-Jei some more septims. She dropped her husband on his bed and sat down on the chest.

“So what were we doing?” Marcurio drawled.

“Drinking.” Esil said calmly.

“And whash are we going to do now?” He asked.

“You’re going to sleep, and I’m going to… rob everyone.” Esil said proudly.

“Be careful when you’re doing thash. ‘Kay?”

“Okay.” Esil left him lying on the bed, humming those three damned notes as she walked down the stairs.

 

—

 

It turned out that robbing people while drunk was a terrible idea. She was dragged down to the dungeon by the guards and locked up across from Sibbi Black-Briar, the same man who’d wanted her to kill a woman and steal a horse for him. She glared at him, in his fancy lavish cell, as she laid down on the cot to wait out her time in jail.

 

—

 

“Where were you?” Marcurio asked.

“Jail. Pickpocketing is not a good idea when you can’t feel your fingers.” Esil said calmly.

“Of course. Where to for our honeymoon?”

“Out to some bandit caves. We’re going to make enough money to buy this lovely little place in Whiterun.” Esil said proudly.

“Bandit caves?”

“They have lots of loot. Follow me!” Esil said happily.

 

 

 


	38. Chapter 38

Three weeks later and Esil was bounding back up to Dragonsreach.

 

“Lydia…” Esil sang as she walked into Dragonsreach. Lydia groaned and dropped her head onto the table.

“Yes, my Thane?” She asked.

“Want to go on an adventure?” Esil put her hands on the table and leaned over towards the housecarl.

“Do I have a choice, Thane?”

“Nope! Get your sword and your wine, I found a Dwemer ruin!” Lydia looked over at Jarl Balgruuf, who just shook his head as Esil bounded out. The Nord woman followed reluctantly after the elf.

 

—

 

“Thane, are you almost done here?” Lydia asked as Esil dug through a fifth burial urn.

“No. Keep an eye out for Falmer and Dwemer shit. I’m robbing the place and I’m still almost blind.”

“How could you miss the Falmer? They’re white hunched monsters.” Lydia watched as Esil climbed one of the huge shelves in search of ‘shiny things’, as the Dunmer called them.

“Because everything in here’s white. Keep looking for them.” Esil said from the top of the shelf. Lydia turned as something approached.

“Sphere.” She breathed, drawing her sword, watching the shadow. Before she could charge, she was pulled off of the ground and onto the shelf. “What are you doing that for?” She asked quietly.

“It’s not a Dwarven Sphere. It’s a Centurion.” Esil said fearfully.

“We can take it.”

“They’re twenty feet tall and shoot intensely hot steam out of their heads. They also sometimes have crossbows. Do you really want to tangle with one?” Esil asked.

“Fine. Do it your way.”

“My way is hiding from everything until I can kill it without being noticed, just so you know.”

“I guess I’ll have to go along with that for now.”

“Good. Be quiet.” Esil drew her bow, handing Lydia one of the dwarven ones she had picked up. “I’ve got extra arrows.” Esil said quietly. Lydia nodded, taking some without arguing. She watched as Esil took aim with her bow, wondering how she could even hope to hit her target with eyes like the elf did, and then gaped as she hit it in the joint between the head and the neck, staggering it. One more shot and it had fallen to the ground.

“And that is how I like to operate.”

 

—

 

Esil hadn't seen the Falmer patrol. She hadn't heard them, either. If she had, maybe they’d have been able to avoid the things. Neither she nor Lydia had seen them, though.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Esil squeaked as she dodged one of their arrows, firing one back at her target. She could hear the clang of swords, no doubt from Lydia taking down her opponents. Esil turned and shot down a third Falmer, while Lydia ran towards her, leaving the bodies of two Falmer behind her.

“Great. Let’s get out of here!” Esil said quickly.  
“I’d agree with you there, Thane.” Lydia said. Esil turned and ran for where they’d come from. She heard Lydia following, and then a gasp of pain. Esil turned and saw Lydia down on one knee, a chaurus reaper charging towards them. Esil charged the chaurus, dodging one of their spitballs. She stabbed it and turned back to Lydia, grinning. Lydia was still. Esil frowned and walked over to her.

“Lydia?” Esil asked, crouching down. “Are you all right?” No answer. Esil turned the housecarl onto her back, feeling for a pulse. Nothing. “Lydia, don't do this. No, Lydia!” Esil began screaming, shaking the body of the Nord woman frantically. Esil felt tears rolling down her face and she furiously wiped them away. She stood, standing over the woman’s body.

“I’m sorry, Lydia.” She whispered. With some difficulty, she picked the woman’s body up and carried it out of the Dwemer ruin.

 

 


	39. Chapter 39

“Jarl Ulfric, the elf has not been heard from in weeks.” Galmar was furious. He had gone on and on about how she was just like all other elves, and how when she finally returned he was going to give her a piece of his mind. 

Then the doors opened and a small purple-skinned girl staggered in, clutching a dragon-headed staff and covered in blood, dirt and grime. Her shoes were gone and her clothes were torn. The normally full quiver on her back was empty, and her bowstring was snapped. She dragged herself towards Ulfric, using the staff to support herself. The Nord rose to his feet, confusion and horror spreading across his face.

“Esil, how much of that blood is yours?” The elf shrugged. “Where were you?” She held up her hand, where a ring was visible from under the ruined glove. “What happened?” The look Esil gave Ulfric would have made even Galmar feel discomfort. Her blank white eyes were wide with fear and pain, but she was grinning wildly, her face covered in scratches and scrapes. She began laughing as she collapsed to the ground.

“I need a healer now!” Ulfric roared.

 

—

 

“Jarl, she’s not talking. Well, she’s muttering, but nothing comprehensible, and if anyone asks her, she stops talking and moving.” The healer told Ulfric.

“Thank you. Other than that how is she?”

“She’s healed well. She’ll be able to walk again in a few hours. However, I’m concerned about the bruising and cuts on her arms. The cuts are deep, and I’m worried about her bones.”

“Won’t a healing potion help her?”

“I’ve given her one already, but these things can take time. I—” The two stopped talking as the doors opened again, this time as an Imperial man charged in. Immediately the guards drew their weapons, charging him.

“Wait! I need to find Esil!” Ulfric raised his hand to stop them, and approached Marcurio.

“What would an Imperial be wanting with her? Are you with the Legion? Are you going to hurt her?”

“What? No! I’m her husband! I need to find her, now!”

“Husband?” Ulfric looked shocked, then quickly regained his composure. “I see. She’s sleeping right now.”

“Where?”

“She’s upstairs, but—” Marcurio was grabbed from behind by small arms around his waist. He turned slightly and saw Esil’s head.

“Hello, love. I’m glad to see you’re okay.” He said. Esil muttered something, to which Marcurio nodded. “Soon, love. Soon.”

“What happened? Why isn't she running around like a madman? That’s what she normally does in here.” Ulfric asked.

“I…don’t know. She disappeared three days ago, and when I picked up her trail I saw her running out of an old cottage. She ran from me as well, and I followed her here, to Windhelm.” Marcurio told the Jarl, angling himself to hug Esil back. Ulfric noticed how she looked like a small child next to the men who towered over her. He also noticed how she was calmer as she hugged this strange Imperial.

“Esil, what happened?” Ulfric asked. More muttering. Ulfric didn't think it was even their language. It sounded older. “Esil.” Esil began untangling herself from Marcurio. “She’s about to run!” Was all the warning he could give before she charged the guards. When they moved to stop her, pulling out their swords, she let out the most deafening, pained scream the Nord had ever heard. In it was a Shout, shaking the floor and knocking things around. 

Marcurio dove for her arms from behind as she brought up her hands in self-defence, sparks and flames forming in them. He grabbed her hands, closing them in his gently, and she bucked forward, grabbing his wrists and going into a roll, sending him into a flip and landing hard on his back.

“Esil, stop! No one’s going to hurt you!” Marcurio shouted upside down against a wall. Esil looked at him confused. “You’re safe now.” She crouched down in front of him, muttering words only he understood, or at least seemed to. The Imperial stood up and picked the girl up, carrying her over to Ulfric.

“Falmer. That’s what happened. Or at least some of it. She had a companion down in some ruins and fought her way out of it. She’s tired, probably hallucinating.” More muttering and the girl curled up tighter in the man’s arms. “Just let her sleep it off.”

“Dragons are in the water…giants flying, Daedra are going to kill everyone… rabbits.” Esil sang softly as Marcurio carried her back up the stairs, flanked by a suspicious Jarl and two alert guards.

 

—

 

Marcurio awoke to something warm on top of him and humming. He looked up and saw Esil draped across his chest, meticulously drawing a bowstring across her bow, knotting it carefully and inspecting it carefully.

“Why don't you act that way to everything?” Marcurio asked.  
“You vibrate when you talk.” Esil said.

“Never mind. How’re you feeling?”

“Hung over. Speak loudly and I’ll gut you.”

“There’s the Esil I know. Hey, no running off randomly, all right? Leave a note or something.”

“Or something…” Esil muttered.

“Hey.” Marcurio took her face in his hand, moving it to face his. She cocked her head and smiled.

“Hand me my hood. It’s ripped.” She said simply. Marcurio sighed and reached for the shrouded cloth. She grinned and picked up a needle from a small basket of random items on the floor and began carefully sewing her hood.

“Seriously though, why not be that meticulous with everything?”

“I am. Can’t you tell?” Esil asked.

“No.”

“The people I need dead get dead, and the people I need alive stay alive.” She explained carefully. “I am very meticulous.”

“And where do I fall on there?”

“People that I’d kill for.” She said. Marcurio frowned.

“Thanks, I think.”

“As in, if someone killed you, I wouldn't stop until their family was dead. Then I’d string them up and cut them up slowly. There’s only you and… yeah, just you I’d do that for.” Esil finished up with her hood and pulled it on.

“You’d do that?”

“Yup. Everyone. I’d burn their house and kill their chickens.” Marcurio wasn't sure whether to smile or look terrified. He chose to keep a blank face.

“My apologies for walking in on this, but I need to speak to Esil.” Ulfric entered the room, watching them.

“Not done yet.” Esil told him, folding her arms childishly.

“Esil, get off me and do as he says.” Marcurio muttered nervously.

“Why? I rarely listen to him.” Esil said.

“I know. Get up, elf. We have problems.” Esil muttered something about impatient Nords and followed him out, leaving Marcurio behind.

 

—

 

“Take this to the Jarl of Whiterun.” Ulfric handed Esil a steel axe. “If he returns it, bring it back. No, you cannot keep it.”

“It’s an axe… what’s so special about it?” Esil asked.

“How long have you been in Skyrim? Never mind. It’s tradition. He’ll know what it means.”

“Should I say anything to him?” Esil asked.

“No. Just give the axe and see.” Esil nodded, taking the weapon and hooking it to her belt. She turned and left the room, entering the main hall where Marcurio was waiting.

“Jarl, was that really such a good idea, trusting your axe to the dark elf?” Galmar asked.

“I trust her, even if you don’t. She will come through.”

“Pray your trust isn't misplaced.” Galmar told him.

 

—

 

“Jarl Balgruuf, I have an axe.” Esil said as she walked up the steps to the throne.

“Where did you get it?” The Nord asked as Esil showed him.

“Ulfric. He told me to give it to you and then report back to him. What’s so special about it? Does it have powers?”

“No, little elf. It’s a challenge of war. Take it back to your new master. Proventus, get me some ink. And the good parchment. I’m writing a letter to Tullius.” Esil’s eyes widened as she realised what had happened. She held the axe in her hands.

 

—

 

“Here.” Esil handed the axe to Ulfric.

“So he’s made his choice. Galmar, prepare for battle.”

“Where?” Esil asked.

“Whiterun. Go to the outskirts of Whiterun. We sack it in the morning.”

 


	40. Chapter 40

Esil saw flames. She heard catapults and watched flaming stones hit Whiterun. She vaguely remembered Galmar’s orders to lower the drawbridge, vaguely remembered her legs carrying out his orders. What she did remember was the one place she truly had loyalty to burning because of her.

 _I should have kept the axe. I should have hidden it, told Ulfric that Balgruuf had kept it. Maybe my home wouldn't burn then._ Esil ran up the smoky path, coughing. She was leading troops to Dragonsreach. She let the soldiers deal with the guards and the Legion.

As she burst through the doors like she had for the past year, she dimly saw Balgruuf and Irileth in armour, brandishing weapons against her. She closed her eyes as she fired on the three.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she shot Balgruuf in his sword arm as she neared him. The greatsword fell to the ground, and Balgruuf groaned in pain. She pointed an arrow at his head.

“You have more loyalty to the Stormcloaks than you do to the Hold that took you in? We should have let your sorry blind self wander the wilderness to die.” Balgruuf spat.

“I don't want to do this, you know. I just don't want to die.”

“By whose hand? Ulfric’s?” Esil shook her head.

“Galmar’s. He doesn’t trust me, and he’s itching for an excuse to take a swing at my head.”

“I trusted you, you know. I let you have power here. And you’ve thrown it all away by casting your lot with the Stormcloaks!” Balgruuf stood, towering over her as Galmar and other soldiers charged in, each brandishing weapons. Irileth moved to attack.

“Stop! I know when I’m beaten. I surrender. I’ll take my things and my family and leave.” Esil watched as Balgruuf walked towards the stairs. “I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done, Esil. And I pray you don't regret it.” Esil put her arrow away and hooked her bow to her quiver. She walked past Galmar, who offered a veiled compliment, and slowly left Dragonsreach.

 

—

 

“I hope you’re happy, Ulfric. I just threw the man who took me in out of his Hold.” Esil said.

“A necessary sacrifice. You’re doing well. From now on we’ll call you Ice Heart.”

“Esil the Ice Heart…” Esil muttered. Her eyes were steel. She turned and walked towards the doors. “If you need me, I’ll be in Riften.”

 

—

 

Marcurio watched as Esil walked into their room and dropped face down onto the bed.

“I heard Whiterun was taken by the Stormcloaks. It went well, then?” No answer. He looked at her curiously. “Balgruuf’s gone to Solitude.” Esil remained motionless on the bed. “Okay… I’ll just let you be for now.” He left and Esil groaned.

 

—

 

“Okay, I said I’d let you be, but you might want to see this.” Esil was still lying there two hours later. “A courier just handed me some letters. I’ve got one from Ulfric, one from somewhere in Riften and one from someone names Ondolemar in Markarth. Do you know him?” Esil looked over at her husband.

“Gimme.” She said, bleary-eyed. He handed over the letters and she clumsily opened them, squinting. She then dropped them all on the ground. “I can’t read them.” She said. Marcurio sighed and opened them to read to her.

 

_Esil Ice Heart_

_We have need of you. Report to the Stormcloak camp near Markarth._

_Ulfric_

 

Marcurio handed it to Esil and she dropped the letter on the ground.

 

_Esil_

_Where’ve you been? I’ve got clients all backed up and we don't have enough people to carry it all out. You better bloody get down here before I send Vex up after you._

_Delvin_

 

Esil glared and pocketed the letter, and Marcurio opened the final one.

 

_Esil_

_Don't do anything rash. Let me warn you as best I can over letters—the Thalmor are everywhere. The two soldiers I have are asking questions. The Thalmor are questioning my involvement with your affairs. You were at Whiterun, and you are part of the Stormcloaks. You are now allied with Talos worshippers, and the Thalmor are not happy that I didn't arrest you earlier. Do not return to Markarth for a while._

_Ondolemar_

 

“Okay, I’ve got to ask, who’s Ondolemar?” Marcurio asked, handing her the parchment.

“Friend. It’s nothing. I have to get down to the Ratway really quick. I’ll be back soon.” Esil said, standing up.

“What did Ulfric want?”

“Me near Markarth.” Esil told him. She hugged him tightly. “Just so you know, I’m something of an idiot.” She let go and disappeared without any more explanation.

 

 


	41. Chapter 41

“Esil, there are large shipments of weapons being delivered to Markarth. We want to hijack it as soon as we can. We are also poised to take the main road in.” Ulfric said.

“Why do you need me?” Esil asked.

“There’s a large Imperial camp nearby and we need to take both it and the shipment guards out. Ulfric told me you could be an asset.” Galmar said harshly. Esil shrugged.

“Okay. Where do I need to go?”

 

—

 

“Marcurio, do me a favour, will you?” Esil asked as they stood by the stables outside Riften. Marcurio was poised to climb on a wagon, and Esil was on her horse.

“What?”

“Get us an actual house, will you? I want one.” Esil said.

“Fine, where?”

“Whiterun.”

“Of course.” Marcurio said as Esil handed him a pouch of gold.

“This should cover most of it.”

“All right. Come back in one piece, okay?” Esil grinned and turned Shadowmere around, galloping off towards Markarth.

 

—

 

“Place looks great, Marcurio.” Esil said as she walked into Breezehome. He looked up from where he was reading and smiled.

“How is your war going?” He asked.

“Pretty well. We’re going to take Markarth in two days. For now Ulfric told me to prepare.”

“And what does that entail?”

“Sleep.” Esil walked up the stairs and disappeared.

 

—

 

Two days later and Esil was standing in the doorway, her staff in hand, her bow and arrows on her back.

“You have your axe? Your knife? Your potions?” Esil nodded. “Extra poison, enough arrows, a spare bowstring, a—” Marcurio was stopped by a small peck on the lips.

“Calm down. You’re adorable when you’re freaking out, but calm down. I’ve been doing this for a while.”

“Blind?”

“It’s been what, a year? I’ll come back. You know I will.” Esil said, cocking her head again. She smiled and bounded out the door, rattling slightly. Marcurio watched her go, fighting fear.

 

—

 

“All right, men. And woman.” Ralof nodded to Esil. When they had met up Esil had almost tackled him, squealing. Now she was silent, her blank white eyes boring into Ralof’s head. He ignored her gaze and continued, “We need to storm the gates as hard and as fast as we can. Once we do that we should be good to go. Got it?” Nods from the soldiers. “Let’s go.”

 

—

 

The Markarth guards saw a small elf charging up the road, leading Stormcloak soldiers slightly, and shooting arrows left and right. They never really had time to react. The girl’s arrows hit their marks, and the soldiers killed anyone else who attacked them. The civilians fled, fearful, and hid. Esil began screaming as she neared the keep, where the Thalmor were outside, defending it. She grinned and shot two in the face, and aimed at the third, a man in robes.

“Sorry, Ondolemar. This will be quick.” She said, and let loose her arrow.

 

Ondolemar saw the Dunmer shoot a Forsworn arrow at his face and he sidestepped it. He was, quite frankly, annoyed that she had decided to throw her lot in with the Stormcloaks, but she couldn't turn back on it now. He saw the dagger and dodged it as she tried to stab him. He stumbled as she grazed his face with the axe and he knocked her backward, looking disappointed. Then he remembered a previous conversation.

 

_“Throwing knife. Dipped in poison. Even if the blade hadn't killed you, the poison would have.”_

 

 _It isn’t going to kill me. She wouldn't do that. Would she?_ Ondolemar’s legs failed him and he fell to the ground limply. Esil leapt over to him as soldiers ran past.

“I’ll deal with this one!” She shouted.Then she leaned in close. “I’m not going to kill you. I just ask that you don't attack me when it wears off. All right?” She grabbed him around the waist and slung him over her back. Ondolemar could only watch as she and other soldiers carried bodies inside. However, instead of turning left towards a large burn pyre, she carried him right, into that wizard Calcelmo’s Dwemer museum. She dropped him unceremoniously on the ground and dragged something out from under a bench.

“The poison lasts for three minutes. I shot you down two minutes ago. It took a minute to bring you up here, and right now you have… about thirty seconds left. Try moving your hands and feet. They’ll be numb, but you’ll be able to move them. Okay, now all we have to do is—” Esil squeaked as Ondolemar launched himself at her, pinning her to the wall with a dagger at her throat.

“What is the meaning of this?” He growled.

“I’m trying to keep you alive. Don’t make me regret it.” Esil told him.

“Why me? You just killed half the city guard, my two personal soldiers, and you spare my life? Are you insane?” He asked incredulously.

“That’s up for debate by at least three different groups.” Esil said.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re not a complete asshole towards me.” Ondolemar sighed.

“How is that an excuse for anything?”

“Because I say it is.” She was completely serious as she looked Ondolemar in the eye.

“And what now?”

“Now you’ll back off and put on the clothes in that bag. And you’ll follow me out and do as you’re told.” Esil told him calmly. Ondolemar put the dagger away and opened the bag. Inside was a full set of Stormcloak armour.

“It might be a bit small. I looked for the tallest guard I could, but Nords are kind of short compared to you Altmer.”

“Fine. Why this?”

“The helmets conceal your face. It seemed like a good idea.”

“All right. Turn around.” Ondolemar growled as he began pulling off his robes.

 

When he pulled the helmet over his head Esil snorted.

“What? Oh gods, I can’t breathe in this thing.” He said.

“It looks so tiny on you. How big are your feet?” She asked, poking his boot.

“Get away from there. How am I supposed to move in this?”

“I wouldn’t know. I try and avoid wearing anything soldier.”

“Hurry up and get me out of here.” Ondolemar said.

“Can I keep your robes?” Esil asked as she picked up the bag.

“What? No!”

“Well it’s not like you can wear them now, is it?” She pointed out.

“Fine. If it makes you feel better.”

“Awesome.”

“And where am I going to go? Markarth’s taken.”

“I’d suggest Solitude. Where your special headquarters are.” Esil told him.

“Fine. The Thalmor will not be happy with this development. Nor will they be happy with you.”

“No one’s happy when I’m around. It goes with the territory. Now start walking.”

 

—

 

“Just act calm, just act natural, we’re almost there…” Esil muttered.

“This armour is riding up and too tight in so many places.” Ondolemar complained.

“Shut up. Be thankful I didn't take your measurements.” Esil nodded as they passed more soldiers.

“When can I take this damned helmet off?” He asked.

“As soon as we’re outside the city, now will you shut up?” Esil asked. They pushed open the gates and walked down the steps. It was foggy and grey, and Esil had to push Ondolemar up onto the horse she had found for him. She clambered up on top of Shadowmere and led them down the road, away from Markarth.

 


	42. Chapter 42

Ondolemar sighed as he pulled off his helmet, throwing it onto the ground.

“And what am I supposed to wear now?” He asked.

“More helmets? Or hoods. Something that hides your face.”

“And now it begs the question—for the love of Kynareth, why are you helping me?” Ondolemar said loudly.

“I consider you my friend.” Esil said calmly. He sighed.

“I wish you didn’t.”

“Why not?” Ondolemar looked at her.

“For one, you’re not the healthiest person. Second, you’re wanted in three Holds. Third, people around you die.”

“Bandits die.” Esil said.

“Bandits. Guards, Legion, random travellers, anyone you feel like.”

“Only the one traveller. And he attacked me first.” Esil told him.

“Of course. Where am I supposed to be going?”

“Well, first we’re finding new armour.” Esil looked around. “There’s a bandit camp near here. Why don’t you just hold still and I’ll go get something?”

 

—

 

Half an hour later Esil returned, carrying a bunch of random pieces of armour. She dumped them on the ground and Ondolemar picked through them.

“Iron? Really?” He asked. Esil glared.

“They’re bandits, what do you expect?” She asked.

“At least there’s steel plate armour. And boots. I’m not wearing that helmet.” He told Esil as she offered him an iron helmet.

“Why not? It’ll cover your face, and you can breathe in it.” She said.

“Fine. I’m not happy, though.”

“I wouldn't expect you to be.” Esil obediently turned around as Ondolemar pulled off the old armour.

 

“You’re beautiful.” Esil told him calmly as he pulled on the helmet.

“Shut up. I’m not thrilled with what happened today.”

“Good. Let’s go to Solitude!” Esil chirped and ran off toward their horses.

 

—

 

“Would it surprise you to know that I’ve never actually been in Solitude?” Esil asked as they walked through the gates. She looked around curiously. “For pleasure, I mean. The last two times were for assassinations.”

“Seriously?” Esil nodded. Ondolemar sighed.

“I’ll just drop you off and be going, all right?” She said.

“Of course.”

“Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t get arrested, don’t get killed, don’t start a war.”

“I’m not you.” The Altmer said flatly.

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day. See you.” Esil said calmly and turned back towards the gates. Before Ondolemar could say anything else she was running out the gates again.

“Good bye, I guess.” He muttered, turning back to the city.

 

—

 

Esil crept into the house in Whiterun a few hours before dawn. She dropped her weapons in a trail from the door to the stairs, and her shoes and hood were left on the landing. She slipped into the bedroom and flopped down next to Marcurio. She grinned and curled up against his back.

 

When the Imperial woke up he felt Esil’s sleeping form behind him. He glanced at her and then stood quietly, trying not to wake her. He walked out of the room and sighed, taking in the mess she had left.

“Damn elf… At least she didn’t drop poisons on the floor.” Marcurio muttered and picked up her boots and hood, leaving them on a cabinet. He saw the medley of weapons on the ground floor and groaned.

 

Esil woke up to the smell of salmon. She grinned, jumping up and over the footboard of the bed and vaulting over the railing of the second floor. She landed behind Marcurio with a thunk, causing him to jump.

“Morning!” She said.

“I picked up your weapons.” He told her.

“Thanks. What’s that? Can I taste?” Esil asked, peering over her husband’s shoulder.

“No. It’s almost done. Now, can you hand me that salt pile?” She did and he stirred it in, picked up a bowl and filled it with soup. He handed it to her. “Fish soup. You need to stop hoarding food in the one barrel.”

“Why?” Esil asked.

“Because the potatoes taste like cheese, and the wine bottles broke after you dumped venison on top of them.”

“Oh.” Esil said. “Okay!” Marcurio sighed and sat down with his own soup. Esil drank hers greedily, cross-legged on top of their table.

“Would it kill you to act normally?” Marcurio asked.

“Probably. Who knows what would attack me?” Esil said.

“I’ll be mixing potions if you need me.” He stood, leaving his empty bowl in  bucket of water and walking into their alchemy lab. Esil finished hers and decided to wash up.

 

—

 

Adrianne watched curiously as Esil held up pieces of armour and weapons.

“Where did you get all this?” She asked somewhat nervously.

“Everywhere. What can you give me for this?”

“For the dwarven helmet? About three hundred. And I can give you about a thousand for the twenty iron daggers you’ve somehow picked up.” Esil took the gold and wandered off.

 

 


	43. Chapter 43

“Today we march on Solitude.” Ralof said as Esil ran towards him. They were standing in the camp near the capital. It was still dark, and the fires were the only light in the area. Ulfric approached, wearing armour and flanked by Galmar and two other soldiers.

“Men, today we end the Empire’s tyranny. Today we fight for our freedom! Today we fight to protect our homes, our families, our land!” Ulfric said. Esil watched as the soldiers cheered. “Everyone, we storm the city. Take down all who stand in your path. We head for the Castle Dour, and General Tullius.”

 

—

 

A loud roar rose up from outside the city. The guards watched as the gates flew open. Soldiers streamed down through the city, laying waste to the enemy. Esil charged ahead, leaving the others behind and making her way to Tullius. Ulfric was on her heels, and they burst through the doors to the castle, hacking down everyone who stood in their path. Esil took aim with her bow and shot down Legate Rikke as she tried to stab Ulfric. Another shot and Tullius was down on one knee, looking up at them.

“Ulfric, you dog! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Because of you, the Thalmor will overrun all of Skyrim. We were never the enemy. Those high elves were!” Tullius said harshly.

“How long until our home burns?” Esil asked.

“Not long, elf. Not long.”

“Esil, would you like to do the honours?” Ulfric turned to her. Esil blinked.

“Not really.” She said. “I’ve done enough killing for now.” Ulfric nodded and brought his sword down on Tullius’s head.

 

__

 

“The Empire has been driven from Skyrim!” Ulfric shouted. He continued to give his speech as Esil stood by his side, but she ignored it, pulling her hood down farther over her face. She knew Ulfric was underestimating the Thalmor.

 _How long until our homes burn? Not long, elf. Not long. The Thalmor retribution will be swift. They will descend on Skyrim and make an example of us. We will die because we tried to be free._ Esil watched as Ondolemar appeared in the shadows of a building. He frowned as he saw her standing by Ulfric. She shrugged slightly and he made a motion towards the Winking Skeever and disappeared.

“Well, Esil? Are you proud of what we’ve done?” Ulfric asked. Esil sighed.

“I don't think I’m the same person I was when the war began.” She said.

“Battle does that to a person. Thank you, though. I think we’ll call you Stormblade from now on. Congratulations.”

“Anything else you need, Jarl?”

“No. You’re free to roam now.”

“And the Thalmor?”

“We’ll deal with them when they try and retake Skyrim.” Ulfric smiled.

 

—

 

“Ulfric’s a fool.” Ondolemar said. They were sitting in the corner of the tavern, away from prying eyes and ears.

“You were beaten by a fool.” Esil pointed out. Ondolemar shook his head.

“He’s an excellent strategist and warrior. But in renouncing the Empire he opens himself up to the Aldmeri Dominion’s attacks.”

“I know.” Esil looked into her tankard.

“What will the great Esil do now?”

“Try to live quietly.”

“And by quietly, do you mean rob and murder people?”

“Not at the same time, no.”

“The first time we met you were in a mania. The second time you were, too. And the third. And the fourth. Now you look like you’re half asleep.” Ondolemar said. “What’s happened?”

“In Morrowind I got sad a lot after my manias. I’d crawl underneath stuff, wouldn't come out for days. I guess it happens here too, I just have responsibilities I can’t drop randomly.”

“What was in Morrowind?”

“A shack in the wilderness in the shadow of Red Mountain. I wasn't there for the eruption. I’d always wandered around, and everything I owned I could strap to my back.”

“And the eyes?”

“After the eruption I had to sell my belongings. Eventually, since the animals I had hunted had all moved off or died, I had to beg. I asked a mage for food and when he declined I tried to steal it. He cursed me.” Esil said.

“No family? No friends?”

“Everyone I meet either dies, hates me or is afraid of me.” Esil said. “Until Skyrim.”

“And in Skyrim?”

“I have two people I count as friends. And more that have respect for me.” Ondolemar nodded.

“I see.”

“Anything else you wanted?” Esil asked.

“Not right now, no.” Esil nodded and stood, leaving the tavern.

 

—

 

“The Stormcloaks have taken control of Skyrim. They’ve renounced the Empire.” An Altmer said. Elenwen frowned.

“Prepare our soldiers. We will begin our assault soon.” She said. The Justiciar nodded. “And find the Justiciar from Markarth. He’s disappeared.”

 

—

 

“Marcurio, I’ve fucked up.” Esil said. The Imperial looked up.

“How?” He asked.

“The Stormcloaks have taken Solitude.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“The Thalmor will be coming for us.” She walked up the stairs. Marcurio followed her.

“And? We can take them.”

“I think everyone’s been ignoring them for too long. Who knows how many soldiers they have by now. I don't think we can take them, Marcurio.” Esil flopped face down on the bed.

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Don't you dare pull this again, Esil. Don't you dare just lie there for days like when you sacked Whiterun. You’ve won a goddamn war. Get up, you’re not moping about the Thalmor.”

“And what do you suggest, sir?” Esil asked, her voice muffled from the pillow.

“The Bannered Mare. There will be celebrating, fights, general drunkenness, it’ll be great! Come on.” Marcurio pulled her off the bed and dragged her quite literally down the stairs and out of the house.

 

 

 


	44. Chapter 44

 

“No. No fun. No games. I want to stay in my house.” Esil said as she was carried outside. The streets were full of people, and instead of simply going about their business, they were laughing, drinking and celebrating the end of the war. Esil was carried through the crowd into the tavern, where Marcurio ordered drinks, and Hulda brought them over, beaming.

“I had no idea you were married, Esil. You’ve made a very good choice, though. He’s quite helpful when you’re away.” Esil took her tankard and raised her eyebrows at Marcurio.

“What? It’s not like I’m going to stay in the house all day. I’ve been doing odd jobs, opened a little shop and done some hunting.”

“You’re quite popular.” Esil said, leaning backwards.

“Is that an issue?”

“Of course not! I’m just interested, that’s all.” Esil defended herself. Marcurio smiled.

“Either way, that man in the corner has been watching you since we came in.” Marcurio pointed subtly. Esil looked over. She could see the blurred form of a man in black robes watching her from the corner.

“I’m going to go talk to him.” Esil said, standing.

“All right. Be careful, okay?”

“What could he possibly do to me, love?” Esil asked. Marcurio shrugged.

“I’ll be heading back home if you need me.”

“All right. See you.” Esil watched him go, then turned back to the man, walking towards him.

“You look like someone who can handle their mead. How about a drinking contest, you and I? Winner gets a staff.”

“I could use a new staff. You’re on.” Esil said.

“Got to warn you, this stuff packs quite a punch. You ready? I’ll take the first shot. Down the hatch!” Esil grinned and raised the tankard to her lips.

 

—

 

“Get up. You, wake up.” Esil opened her eyes slowly, wincing at the light. She stood up carefully, groaning and clutching her head.

“Where…” She blinked, and her vision cleared somewhat. She was in the Temple of Dibella. “How the hell did I get here?” She asked.

“You ran in here around midnight, threw trash everywhere and…fondled the statuary. You ought to be ashamed.” A priestess told her harshly.

“Sorry. Did I mention a staff?” She asked.

“You did mention it, yes. But how about you pick up your mess first, and then I’ll tell you about your staff.”

 

—

 

“You stole my goat and sold her to a giant! Don't you dare come back here until you have my goat!” An irate farmer told her. Esil nodded and went off to find said goat.

It wasn't far off, munching grass on a hill by a giant’s camp. Esil offered the goat a carrot and led it back towards Rorikstead.

“There she is.” The farmer had calmed down considerably.

“And the staff?”

“You left a note. It was barely legible, but you mentioned Whiterun.”

“Thank you.” Esil said.

“Go away.”

 

—

 

“I’ll be needing that ring back.” Ysolda said.

“The what now?”

“Don’t tell me you've forgotten your own wedding! You told the most romantic story of how you met, under the moonlight on a lake…”

“Okay… let me just go find that ring.”

 

—

 

Esil crept down into the Necromancer nest, shooting down anyone who stood in her path. She saw a portal open up and walked through it, not caring.

She shut her eyes as she ended up on the other side. She could see perfectly again, and it hurt. She opened them slowly, noticing how her eyes took in so much light that it felt like she was hung over for the first minute.

“I’m never drinking again.” She said. She stood in a misty wood. Lanterns hung along a path, and a little stream ran below stone bridges.

“I’m definitely not in Skyrim right now.” Esil muttered. She started down the path.

She walked into a clearing where several Nord men stood around a table laid with food, talking and drinking. The robed man stood nearby.

“Hey, Sam! I’ve got the stuff to fix the staff.” Esil said, walking over to him. “Where are we?” She asked.

“Oh, it’s you! Glad you could make it! Just throw all those things out, you won’t need them. I just wanted to get you here.” Sam grew a foot and turned into a Daedra. “Sanguine, Daedric Prince of debauchery, at your service.” He said.

“I did all this for you?” Esil asked. He nodded. “Fine. Can I have the staff?”

“Sure, you’ve earned it.” Sanguine handed her a rose-tipped staff. She smiled.

“This is amazingly made. Perfect weight, perfect balance. I guess I shouldn't expect anything less from a Daedra, right?” Sanguine nodded.

“I’ve learned not to.” He said.

“So how am I getting back?” Esil asked.

“Like this.” The Daedra snapped his fingers, and Esil found herself back in the ruin, with blurred vision. She sighed and began working her way out of the necromancer nest.

 


	45. Chapter 45

 

“Esil, wake up. Now.” Esil was shaken awake by a panicked Marcurio.

“Wha’s it?” Esil slurred.

“Can’t you smell it? Fire.” Esil opened her eyes.

“Not much, no. Don't we have a fire?” She saw the sky outside glowing. “That’s not normal…”

“I know, get up we have to move! Now!” Marcurio shouted at her. The smell of smoke and heat from the walls hit her and she was awake. She leapt out of bed, grabbing the three items she wasn't about to lose. She reached for the staff on the other side of the room where it stuck out of a chest.

“We don't have time for collecting our belongings, Esil! Run!” She was dragged through the house and downstairs, crashing through the front door. She quickly threw her bow and quiver onto her back, her axe at her belt. Her dagger was sheathed and hidden where it always was.

Esil saw the town burning. Sparks flew into the air and she heard screams.

“No…” She whispered as she ran for her life. The house behind them fell to the ground, the timbers smouldering. She saw people running for the gates, and the guards frantically trying to get them open. “Out of my way!” She screamed, running towards them, pushing people out of her way and shoving the guards to the side. 

“ **Fus Roh Dah**!” She Shouted, blowing the gates open. Beams that had held it shut splintered and broke, sending splinters flying outward. A stream of survivors ran from the town, and Esil turned back to look up. A stream of smoke rose from Dragonsreach, and she heard something explode.

“Forget it, run!” Marcurio had her hand again, and she was being pulled down towards part of the crumbling wall. “Jump!” She did, landing hard on the wooden planks below. She heard Marcurio land next to her and take her hand once more. 

Charging off the ledge and onto the grass below, they kept running until they reached the river. Esil saw horses and men in robes next to two catapults. Her eyes widened as they turned, riding away, abandoning the catapults.

“Thalmor.” She said. She turned back to what was left of Whiterun, and watched her home go up in flames.

 

—

 

“Ulfric, wake up! There’s been a dragon attack!” The Jarl got up quickly, looking over at Jorlief.

“Where?” He asked.

“Whiterun. You can smell the smoke from here. Apparently it’s still burning.”

“Survivors?”

“Yes. There were only five deaths in the town, and they were from Dragonsreach.”

“How?”

“It went up after the rest of the town. Jarl Vignar and four servants that part of the roof fell down on.”

“Saddle my horse.”

 

—

 

Esil watched the sky as the sun rose. Whiterun was nearly reduced to ashes at that point, and she leaned against one of the catapults.

“Two packs of flaming oil, tar and dry wood. One was launched at the market, the other at Dragonsreach. The explosion would have thrown the contents of the pack around. Whiterun was made of wood.” Esil said to no one in particular.

“Well aren't you the detective.” Marcurio said, standing over her.

“I try.” She told him. Her head turned as horses approached. “Who’s that?”

“His high and mightiness, Ulfric Stormcloak.” Marcurio said witheringly.

“He’s not that bad.” Esil stood up as one horse approached her. “Hi.”

“Are you all right?”

“I was woken up and had to run out of a burning building and blow open a gate that Thalmor had barricaded shut.”  
“So it wasn't a dragon?”

“No. Thalmor. I saw them run.” Ulfric raised his eyebrows. “Well, I saw their outlines.”

“I saw them, Jarl.” Marcurio stepped in. “They were high elves and wore Thalmor robes and Elven armour.”

“I see.”

“Is it safe to go in yet? I need to find stuff.”

“Not by looting other’s homes, I hope.”

“I haven't sunk that low yet, Jarl.” Ulfric’s eyes widened at the slight show of respect. Esil’s eyes were glazed and she stared at his horse’s shoulder. Ulfric glanced at Marcurio, who ignored him.

“All right. I’ll go and see if you can go in.” Ulfric rode his horse away and Marcurio hugged Esil.

“Why?” She asked.

“Why to the attack, or why to the hug?”

“The hug.”

“You’re my wife, aren't you? And you're not acting normal.” Esil turned and hugged him back.

“I’m not okay.” She said.

“Talk to me, love.” They turned abruptly as a guard waved them over.

“While we hunt.” Esil said.

 

—

 

Esil stood in the ashes and ruin of her home. The frame still stood, but the walls, roof and top floor were broken and charred. She began sifting through the ash on the ground, looking for her spare arrows, her potion ingredients and the various bones she had collected. She found a badly burnt elven arrow, but her ingredients were ash.

“Well at least we know where the lab was. It stinks worse than the rest of the ruin.” Marcurio said, waving his hand in front of his nose. Esil sighed. “Talk.”

“Lydia’s dead.” Esil said, poking the burnt chest that had fallen from the top floor. She opened it and saw the rose-tipped staff. “I drove the man who trusted me first from his home.” She pulled a charred barrel from underneath the ruined stairs. “I won a war, but not feeling like myself.” She opened it to find her spare lockpicks, a spare quiver and some leeks. “The Thalmor are going to destroy Skyrim to prove a point.” She looked back at her husband. “I’m not who I was when I entered Skyrim.” Marcurio looked at her, staring her down. She screwed up her face, breathing deeply.

“Come here.” Marcurio walked towards her. She whimpered and ran to him, hugging him tightly. Marcurio planted a light kiss on her sooty forehead. “We’ll make it, you and me. We can survive this.”

“Can we?” Esil asked.

“You survived Sovngarde, and I’ve survived months of living with you. We’ll be all right.” He said calmly. Esil nodded.

“We’ll be all right. We will.” She began chanting softly to herself. They continued to sift through the ashes as other people searched through their homes. Crying was heard, and Marcurio watched Esil’s steely gaze with apprehension.

 

 

 


	46. Chapter 46

 

“What are you doing?” Marcurio watched as Esil carefully took a quill and dipped it in an inkwell. They were in Windhelm again, and had taken a room at Candlehearth Hall.

“Writing a letter.” She said. She touched the quill to the parchment and shakily wrote out

 

_Whiterun burned. I’m a fool._

 

She waited for the ink to dry and then folded up the parchment, sealed it and handed it to Marcurio.

“Send this to Solitude. To Balgruuf.” She said. Marcurio nodded and took it.

 

—

 

“Sir, I have a letter. From Windhelm.” A courier tried to hand the former Jarl a letter.

“I don't want it. Give it to my steward.”

“Sir, I was given explicit instructions to give it to you. No one else.” Balgruuf sighed and took it. He had heard about Whiterun’s fate an hour ago. He opened it and read the two sentences, scrawled out loosely and large, taking up the entire page. He frowned, folding it up.

“My lord, what is it?” Irileth asked.

“It’s Esil. She’s trying to get back into my good graces.” Balgruuf pocketed the note anyway. “Get me parchment.”

 

—

 

Esil opened the letter, glanced at it and handed it to Marcurio. He looked at it.

 

_Esil,_

_I know Whiterun burned. And I know you’re a fool. I will not forgive you for the idiotic decisions you've made and now must pay for. Never enter my sight again._

 

Marcurio looked carefully at Esil. Her face remained impassive as she reached for the quill.

 

—

 

_I don't want forgiveness._

 

Balgruuf dropped the letter in the fire.

“Proventus, check any letters that arrive for me. Destroy any from Esil.” He said. Proventus nodded.

 

 

 


	47. Chapter 47

 

“Esil. Good to see you.” Galmar said. Esil frowned at the lack of hostility, shrugged it off and continued over to the table with the maps.

“What are we doing?” She asked.

“We’re planning an attack on the Thalmor. Soldiers have been taking out their patrols, but it’s not enough. We need to hit them hard and fast.”

“The Embassy.” Esil said. They looked at her. “The Thalmor Embassy, near Solitude. Elenwen’s in there.” Ulfric nodded.

“We’ll attack there soon.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” Esil asked. Galmar nodded.

“If we can find their plans we can learn where they’ll attack.” Esil said.

“And how would we do that?” Ulfric asked. Esil looked at him.

“I have friends. Namely the Thieve’s Guild. If anyone can get in there to steal shit, they can.”

“We’d trust thieves to get top secret plans?” Galmar asked incredulously.

“I _lead_ the Thieve’s Guild, Galmar. I’d expect my own people to get a job done.” She said witheringly. The two Nords stared at her, jaws slack.

“You just admitted to—”

“Shut up, Galmar. I don't actually have much to lose at this point. I’m going to Riften, and when I come back, you’d be damn sure I have those plans.” Esil turned on her heel and walked out.

“She’s admitted to being a criminal.” Galmar said.

“I don't think there were ever any doubts, Galmar. Have you ever noticed your pockets being lighter right after she’s left a room?” Ulfric said. Galmar nodded.

“True. The girl’s insane, talking about something like that, though.”

“Old news, Galmar. But she’s got a plan, which is more that we have.”

 

—

 

“Brynjolf! Where are you, I need help!” Esil shouted as she climbed down the ladder into the Cistern. Brynjolf approached her, confused.

“What do you need, lass?” He asked.

“I need someone to break into the Embassy.” She said. Brynjolf looked stunned.

“You want to… why in blazes would you want to do that?”

“I need their plans.” She told him.

“Why?”

“Stuff.” Esil said noncommittally, walking towards the Flagon.

“No, whelp, you tell me what’s going on, and you tell me _now_.” Brynjolf spun her around to face him.

“The Thalmor are what’s going on.” Esil said harshly. “I need someone to get in, take their war plans, their dossiers, their random notes, everything of use, and get out and bring it to me so I can get a war started.” Esil glared.

“Another war? We just got out of one!”

“And three of the Holds have been attacked. The Thalmor are not going to wait for us to recover and then fight fair. I ran out of Whiterun as it burned to the ground. I’m not going to let the rest of Skyrim meet that same fate!” She shouted. The other thieves looked over at the two.

“Listen lass—what you’re asking, it’s suicide. It’s not worth it to most of us.”

“Will it be worth it when there’s nothing left in Skyrim to steal?” Esil asked him. “Will it be worth it when Riften burns? Will it be worth staying in the shadows, not doing anything, when there’s no one left to take jobs from? When Skyrim is gone, where will you go? Hammerfell? Morrowind? Cyrodiil? They’ll be next in the Thalmor’s line of fire. Everything will be destroyed.” Esil said loudly, wrenching herself from Brynjolf’s grip and storming towards the Flagon’s door. Rune and Cynric stood out of her way as she blew by, before turning quickly back to Brynjolf.

“If you’re not willing to do something to save us, I will!” With a loud crash, she slammed the door shut behind her.

“What was that about?” Rune asked.

“Lass is trying to break into the Thalmor Embassy. Wanted my help.”

“And I assume you said no.” Sapphire walked over to them, folding her arms.

“Of course. I’m not letting her send good thieves out on a suicide mission.”

“You realise that she’ll head out alone, right? Pick the lock, break in, steal everything. And if she gets caught, we’re out another Guild Master. We’d have to find another one. Is that really worth it?” Cynric asked. Brynjolf sighed.

“I see your point. I’ll go talk to her.”

“That’s a really bad idea right now. I will.” Rune told him and walked into the Flagon after the elf.

 

—

 

“Hey, boss. What can I do for you?” Delvin looked up at Esil.

“Who here’s good at breaking into something with incredibly high security?” Esil asked.

“Um, Vex is, of course, and Brynjolf. Cynric.”

“Not Brynjolf, and Vex would argue.” Esil said to herself.

“What are you planning, boss?”

“The greatest heist since the Falmer Eyes.” Esil said calmly.

“Pull up a seat, and tell me what you’re on about.” Esil sat down across from Delvin.

“I need to break into the Thalmor Embassy.”

“And stop right there. That is quite possibly the greatest heist, but why would you want to do something that dangerous?”

“Because there are important documents inside that need taking.” Esil told him. Delvin frowned.

“All right. Go on.”

“Inside are attack plans, maps of their camps, and dossiers on a whole lot of people. If that’s not striking your kind of fancy, there are so many trinkets. Jewels, clothes, rare books— and gold.”

“You had me at gold.”

“From what I hear, the elves are loaded. Fancy weapons. Bags of septims just laying around. Expensive potions. All ripe for the taking.”

“So you want to break into the most dangerous place in all of Skyrim, so you can loot it to your heart’s content? Is that what I’m hearing?” Delvin asked.

“Yup.” Esil said calmly.

“Fine. What’s your plan?”

“I’ve actually been in there before. There’s a cave that leads straight up to the interrogation room.” Esil’s eyes seemed to sparkle, and she looked alive. Delvin could see some of the manic elf that used to be there spring back to life.

“And from there?”

“Straight shot to whatever you want, baby.” Esil leaned back in her chair, ignoring Rune, who had been leaning against the wall for the past five minutes.

“Sounds like you know a lot about the layout.”

“I’ve been inside before.” Esil said.

“Business?”

“Of a sort.” Esil shrugged. “Either way, we need to get inside and steal everything.”

“And you want someone to be hired for the job?” Esil looked up at Rune finally.

“Since Brynjolf doesn't want me to I’m looking for a partner.” Esil told him. “Etienne Rarnis would know the layout, but there’s no way I’m asking him to revisit that shit hole.”

“Sounds incredibly dangerous. How many elves do you think are inside?”

“I don't know, twenty, maybe thirty?” Esil said.

“And the loot?”

“Like I said, a shit ton of stuff just lying around.” Rune nodded.

“How about you and I go in?” He asked. “You’re the assassin, and I’m the thief.” Esil began grinning.

“I don't like that look you’ve got there, boss. What did you do?” Delvin said, leaning away.

“I figured out how we’re getting inside. Thanks, Delvin!” Esil jumped up, mania hitting her like a long-lost friend.

“What did I do?”

“You know my plans! If Rune and I disappear, you know where to find us!” Esil shouted, and tore out of the Flagon, dragging Rune along behind her. Delvin looked over at Vex.

“She’s back.” Was all he said as he heard a loud crash. Vex smacked herself in the forehead.

“I was hoping you wouldn't say that.” She told him.

 

 


	48. Chapter 48

 

Rune learned the hard way why everyone refused to take jobs with Esil. The girl hummed incessantly, got distracted by rabbits and would mutter to herself about completely unrelated things at length.

“Giants are encroaching… got to look into that… find some Sleeping Tree sap… that would be useful. Could sell it… Need to get some venison… Maybe a house in Riften…” Esil mumbled as they approached Reeking Cave.

“Hey, boss, the Embassy’s up there.” Rune said, pointing up the mountain.

“Do you really want to walk in the front door?” Esil asked. “I came out this way once before. I think we can do it again.” She led him in, past a dead frost troll and towards a low cliff. “Help me up.” Esil said, and without warning, moved Rune in front of the ledge and began climbing him. Once she was on top of the ledge she turned and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up backwards.

“Esil, Esil— ow, Esil, this isn’t working, Esil stop—” Rune said quickly as she pulled him onto the rocky ground and laying him flat, his feet hanging off the edge.

“Of course it worked. You’re up, aren't you?” Esil stood over him, staring down. Rune rolled onto his stomach and stood.

“Next time let’s try a less painful method. All right?”

“What did you expect?”

“You holding my hands and me climbing with my feet.”

“That sounds stupid. Let’s keep moving.” Esil remarked, turning and walking up the tunnel. Rune sighed and followed reluctantly.

 

—

 

Esil clambered up out of the trap door into the Embassy, Rune following quickly.

“All right, what I need is for you to go and find as much shit as you can on their plans.” Esil whispered.

“And where would that be?”

“I’ve been here once, how the fuck should I know?” Esil asked, drawing her bow. “We need to be quick and silent.”

“Which is why you have your bow out.”

“It’s silent.” Esil began sneaking over to the desk where she’d watched a Justiciar torture another Thieve’s Guild member. She opened the chest, looking for anything she could use. Rune snuck up the stairs, avoiding the drowsy Thalmor soldier and opened up the desk near the door. He smiled slightly as the soldier left the room and he pulled out some maps. He heard Esil walking up the stairs and watched as she went past him into another room.

“Where are you going now?” He asked quietly, following her.

“Elenwen’s office. She should have some useful stuff in here, right?” Esil asked. Rune shrugged. They began digging around in the chests and drawers in the room, both on edge, listening for footsteps.

Esil’s head jerked up as she gripped three letters detailing future attacks and execution orders. She glanced over at Rune, who nodded. He’d heard someone approaching as well. She closed the chest lid as quietly as she could, creeping back over to him. They pressed against the wall, listening. The footsteps got louder, and the door slowly opened. Rune felt a vial being pressed into his hand, and without checking to see what it was, downed it. He saw Esil disappear, and guessed that he’d just ingested an invisibility potion. Prayed that it was what he’d ingested.

 _Girl better have kept track of what she has on her…_ Rune thought. An Altmer woman walked in, looking around, frowning.

“Hello? I know someone’s in here. You can’t hide forever.” She said, beginning to make a search of the room. He felt a hand on his chest and took it. The invisible force pulled him quickly out of the room, dragging him down the stairs back into the interrogation chambers.

As soon as the door shut the potion wore off and Esil’s wide eyes met his. She stood up and ran down the stairs, pulling him along behind. They could hear someone shouting, and footsteps in pursuit. Esil flung the trap door open, practically pushed Rune down into it, and jumped in after him, closing the door quickly. 

The two ran through the tunnels, past the troll and out of the cave. They kept running, down the road towards Solitude, not stopping until they had reached the stables.

Esil began laughing as she collapsed against a wall, her head rolling backwards. Rune dropped to his knees, panting.

“Vipir has nothing on us.” She said. Rune looked at her, smiling weakly.

“My sister in crime, truly.” He said. She grinned. “What did you get?”

“So much.” She said, pulling out the letters and some other rolls of parchment. “Dossiers. Maps. And three attack plans. You?”

“A shit load of dossiers. They have them on the Jarls, you, some Blades and three sellswords. Do you know a ‘Marcurio’?” The book in question was snatched away by Esil, who opened it, squinting.

“I can’t read it. Do they know where he is?” She asked, handing it back.

“No. They thought he was in Riften, but apparently he’s gone.”

“Good.” She said.

“Who is he?” Rune asked curiously. Esil looked at him.

“My husband. Shit. Why do they know about him?”

“He apparently spoke out against the Thalmor a few times, and he was hired by some ‘Esil’. Then, boom, three months ago he vanishes. They don't know where he’s gone.” Esil giggled softly.

“Thalmor are idiots.” She said.

“Sure they are.” Rune said.

“Thanks.” Esil stood, taking the items. “Head back to Riften.” Rune nodded, turning away and walking toward a wagon. “And, Rune?” He turned back to the elf. “Be careful.” The Dunmer looked scared. Rune’s brow furrowed as he continued on his way.

 

 


	49. Chapter 49

 

“Got it!” Esil sang as she ran back into the war room. Ulfric simply nodded, taking the documents.

“Thank you, Stormblade. Your help is invaluable to this war.” Esil cocked her head at his cool reply, but ignored it for the time being.

“What now?”

“We begin our counterattack. They want to sack Solitude, I say we sack their Embassy.” Ulfric told Galmar.

“This is about my connections, isn't it?” Esil said coldly. Ulfric glanced at her, and then back to the map, a gesture she couldn't see. “Well guess what— if I didn't have those ties, you’d be flapping your arms wondering where those Thalmor sons of bitches were going to attack next. You count your blessings, Jarl. I’m going to be in the wilds if you need me.” Esil snarled, turning and walking away.

“You realise she’s one of our most valuable assets, right? That she helped you win the war? That without her, yes, we would be wondering where they would strike next?” Galmar stated. Ulfric looked at him.

“I know. I don't want a thief in our ranks, though.”

“Half the men have been jailed a few times for thievery. And you call me picky.”

“Fine. You’ve made your point. I knew she wasn't law-abiding in any respect, but I didn't think she was that deep in the criminal world.” Ulfric sighed and turned to leave.

“If she doesn't come back…” Galmar warned.

“I know. I’m going to have to send soldiers out looking for her, aren't I?” Galmar nodded. Ulfric groaned.

 

—

 

“Hello, my love. Where’ve you been?” Marcurio asked as Esil came into the inn where they were staying in Falkreath. She was glaring, but her gaze softened slightly and she dropped heavily onto the bed.

“Out. What kind of things did you say about the Thalmor?” Esil said abruptly.

“What?” Marcurio asked, stunned.

“You heard me. Answer.”

“Well, I called them out on their policies… I said that their outlawing Talos was childish and futile, and that they were kidnapping people on suspicion was only going to spread more hatred of them instead of forcing cooperation. Why?” He told her hesitantly. She pulled out a small book.

“They were very well aware of your presence in Riften. And they weren't happy.” Marcurio took the book, reading it quickly.

“Esil, where did you get this?”

“Broke into the Embassy.” Esil said lightly, rolling onto her back and staring at a blurred ceiling. Marcurio got up and stood over her.

“Esil, tell me simply— you broke into the Thalmor headquarters, and stole stuff?” He asked, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea how stupid that was?”

“No. It worked, and I got out. It’s fine.”

“It is not! Fine!” Marcurio shouted. Esil stood up, leaving the room. Marcurio followed her, still ranting. “Do you have any idea how much trouble this will cause? Do you understand what the cost of this will be? Do you even care what will happen?” Esil left the inn, walking down the road. “Don’t give me the silent treatment now, you’re blind, not deaf!”

“I will be soon if you don't shut up.” Esil said. Marcurio grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Let go.” She growled quietly.

“No, I will not! Answer my questions!”

“I am absolutely aware of what I’ve done. But Skyrim is burning and the Thalmor have to die. I broke into the Embassy to steal their plans. I got out in one piece. Ulfric is going to launch a counterattack against them. This is the only way I know that we can survive.” Esil said, her face blank. Marcurio shook his head, looking down at the ground.

“Esil… I don't want you to rush in head-first into something you’ll regret. I don't want you to make a mistake and have it cost you…”

“Cost me what?” Esil asked.

“Cost… you everything you love.”

“I can get more arrows.” Esil told him.

“I don't want you to do something and have it cost me the woman I love.” Esil grabbed Marcurio’s face and pulled it up so their eyes met.

“You don't want me to die. You don't want me to do something I’d regret.” Marcurio nodded. “Love, I do that every time I try and help people. I help win the war and look where it’s gotten us. A burning Whiterun and a pissed-off Thalmor.” Esil said.

“I know. Promise me one thing, though?”

“What?”

“When you head out for war. Take me with you.” Esil broke a smile and kissed Marcurio deeply.

 

—

 

“Justiciar, what do you know of the ‘Dragonborn’, Esil?” Elenwen turned to another Altmer.

“Not much, Ambassador. Just that she’s extremely unstable and incredibly dangerous.” He said.

“And that is the extent of our knowledge. Do you see the problem? Our dossier is sadly lacking in information. And now it’s missing. This Esil is most likely a thief, but other than her allegiance to the Stormcloaks, her ‘Dragonborn’ status and her residence in Whiterun, we know nothing. Find the Justiciar from Markarth. I need to speak to him.” Elenwen waved her hand and the Justiciar nodded and left.

 

—

 

_The roar of a dragon. Fire, meteors falling from the sky. A small dark elf running madly, grabbing with her hands for something, anything. Feet hitting the stone floor. Wild swings of an axe._

_The same elf, crossing the threshold of their house, telling them she could be useful._

_And then they meet once more, outside Markarth. The little girl is replaced by a cold-eyed woman with a bow on her back._

_There’s fire again. And dragons. Their home is burning. But this time, there’s no little elf to save them._

 

Ralof woke up, sitting up straight in bed. He could hear the sounds of crickets outside, and his heart rate slowed. He then heard someone walking around. He decided that sleep was not going to return, and he grabbed his sword and left the house. He saw the elf again. She was oblivious to everything, sitting in the road, counting arrows.

“Esil.” He said quietly. She jumped, looking up at him.

“Hi.” She said, her eyes barely making out his form.

“What are you doing?”

“I don't know.” Was the quiet reply. Ralof stepped off of the porch, walking over to her.

“Get up.” He said. She looked up at him.

“Why?” She asked.

“Because your ass is going to get covered in dirt. Move.” She could see the hint of a smile on his face. She did as he said and stared up at him. “Why are you back in Riverwood?”

“I don't know. It’s close to Falkreath. I was hunting.” She said.

“For what?”

“Anything.” Esil told him and turned to walk away.

“Wait.” Esil stopped, listening. “I got a message from Ulfric yesterday. In two days we attack the Thalmor Embassy. He’s put the word out, trying to reach everyone, and his men are instructed to deliver the message to you. I’d suggest you head up to Windhelm.” Ralof said. Esil nodded.

“All right. He wasn't happy with me the last time, though.”

“Why not?” Esil turned back to him, those blank white eyes piercing him creepily.

“Because I used my criminal connections to bring him stuff.” She said cryptically, and turned on her heel, walking through their sorry excuse for a gate and up through the forest, disappearing into the darkness. Ralof stood in the road, confused.

 

—

 

“What do you want.” Esil growled. Ulfric slowly stood up from where he had been sleeping.

“Could this have waited?”

“Ralof said to find you. I found you. What do you want.” Esil was annoyed. “Also, if you’re going to be prissy about where your shit comes from, I’d suggest you find someone else to do your jobs.” She frowned, and he glared.

“I really want you to stop talking that way to me. Other people have been thrown in jail for less.”

“I’m not other people, now am I?” Esil said. “What did you want?”

“I want you to be ready for attacking the Embassy. Be outside Solitude in two days. Can you handle that?” Ulfric asked testily. Esil nodded curtly.

“Of course I can.” She said coldly. “Who do you think I am?” She turned and left the room.

 

—

 

_Balgruuf, I need your help._

 

_Markarth was sacked._

 

_People are dying. Everywhere._

 

_Dawnstar was raided by three bandit clans in one week. The bodies had notes from the Thalmor._

 

_Balgruuf, talk to me. Three holds have been attacked. Don't give me the silent treatment now._

 

_I don't want forgiveness, I want a response._

 

_Listen to me, please. Please, respond._

 

_Solitude is next. They are coming._

 

Proventus took the letters as instructed, but he did not destroy them. Instead he watched as the Empire-aligned Jarls became quieter and more focused on their own survival. When he would walk up the stairs to Elisif’s throne room, he saw battle plans and strategists. Soldiers were everywhere. He could see smoke plumes in the distance when he stepped outside the Blue Palace.

“My lord, everything is burning. Please, look at these.”

“I told you I want nothing to do with that traitorous elf!” Balgruuf snapped as Proventus tried to hand him the letters. A familiar crash was heard above them, and the banging of a staff sounded on the stairs. “Oh gods, what does she want?” Balgruuf turned to see Esil carefully finding the steps down. She tripped, falling from the fifth one up and landed on Irileth.

“Get off me, you fool!” She shouted, pushing Esil away.

“Balgruuf.” Esil said, approaching him. “Listen to me. The Thalmor are outside. I need your help.”

“And what could you possibly say to make me help you?” He asked. They stood near the stairs, Irileth leaning against a wall, watching them carefully.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Esil said finally. “Besides my deepest apologies.” Balgruuf looked at the girl. If it was possible, she was thinner, and her eyes were sunken in, surrounded by dark circles. Her pale eyes were bloodshot and faintly yellow.

“So why would you approach me? After all you’ve done?”

“Everything’s gone. Everything’s burning. All I can smell is smoke. And all I can see are flames.” Esil said. “Skyrim is burning and it’s my fault.” She babbled. “I’m a fool. I’m an idiot. I thought I could help people, free Skyrim, but I was wrong. My actions made things worse. People warned me, told me not to, but I ignored them like I always have.” She looked up at the former Jarl. “I listened to Ulfric when I should have listened to you. To Elisif. To Tullius’s warnings. To my friends. I listened to one man and now everyone will pay the price.” Balgruuf watched the girl.

“And?”

“And now I’d ask you to help me. To put your armour on and fight.”

“Why would I help you?”

“So that maybe there’ll be a Skyrim left to rebuild.” Esil said.

“No. Leave my sight, you fool.” Balgruuf turned away.

“I’ve only used one melee weapon since I entered Skyrim. An axe. I got it in Helgen. You said warriors will give each other axes sometimes. So here it is. If you won’t accept my apology, then accept this gift.” Esil said quietly. She took her axe off of her belt and laid it on the table next to them. She turned away, tapping her staff on the stairs. Balgruuf looked over at the table.

 

—

 

As Esil walked down from the Blue Palace she heard running feet behind her. She turned and saw the steward.

“Proventus?” She asked.

“Here. Balgruuf asked me to give this to you.” He handed her a small circlet. She gripped it and looked at him, shocked. “He told me to destroy the letters, but I didn’t. I think he’s going to be rethinking his position in this.” Proventus turned and left her standing in the courtyard, stunned. She looked down at the circlet, and then smiled weakly.

 

 


	50. Chapter 50

“Esil.” Marcurio stood over the sleeping elf. They were in the Winking Skeever, and it was nearly dawn. “Esil. Get up.”

“Why?” Was the slurred reply.

“Battle.” Esil’s eyes were open and she fell out of bed, scrambling to her feet and running for her armour, tripping and falling over the sheets she had dragged off with her.

“Esil.” Marcurio said as his wife ran by, panicked. “Esil.” She pulled on her boots and gloves. “Esil, you have an hour. Eat something.” He told her. She shakily took a breath.

“Can’t. I have things to do.” She said, but grabbed an apple as she ran out the door.

 

—

 

“Justiciar, anything you can tell me about the Dragonborn?” Elenwen leaned over an Altmer man.

“Just that she’s stronger than you.” He said. “And it will be hard to crush her image. The people who know her know that she’s not the greatest person by any stretch of the imagination. But they are loyal to her. She’s helped them.”

 

—

 

“I see you finally made it.” Galmar said as Esil ran towards them, Marcurio on her heels. She motioned for him to wait by the fire and he nodded, doing so.

“Yup. I’ve got a few friends already up there.” Esil said.

“You… what?”

“Just some archers. Nothing much.” Esil said nonchalantly. Brynjolf rode in on a horse, dismounted and walked over to her.

“We’re ready when you are, lass.” He said. Esil nodded.

“Good. Could you hang around? We might need some extra blades.” Esil said.

“Whatever you say.” Brynjolf nodded to her and walked over to his horse to tend it. Esil turned back to Ulfric.

“We have five Stormcloak soldiers that are imprisoned up there. We’d like to get them out before the fighting starts.” Esil nodded.

“Marcurio and I can handle that.” She said brightly, and turned as horses approached. She left the tent and saw a familiar shape approaching quickly.

Balgruuf dismounted his horse, striding over to Esil. She could see the war axe at his side.

“You came.” She said quietly.

“Of course. Do you think I would stand idly by while the Thalmor burn our homes and slaughter our people? Be it dragons or elves, I’ll fight them all.” Balgruuf said proudly. Esil squeaked and hugged him.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered. He slowly returned the hug, resting his hand on her back as Ulfric and Galmar exited the tent.

“Balgruuf? What are you doing here?” Ulfric asked.

“I’m here to fight. Why else would I be here?” Balgruuf replied.

“Fine. Esil, weren't you doing something?”

“Yes.” Esil let go of the former Jarl and glanced back at Ulfric. “Play nice, all right?” She asked, and bounded away towards her horse, where Marcurio was waiting. 

“I’m ready to kill things. Come on, I’ll take you through the secret entrance.” Esil grabbed his elbow and began running.

 

—

 

Esil crept into the dungeon. Marcurio busied himself with freeing the prisoners behind her, but her blurred focus was on the next room, where she saw what appeared to be an Altmer.

“Keep going, I’ll catch up.” Esil told Marcurio. He nodded, deciding that arguing wouldn't be smart. Esil snuck into the next room and rested her chin on one of the posts on what appeared to be a rack.

“Ondolemar?” She asked in a half sing-song voice. She heard a groan and saw the golden head turn.

“What do you want?” She heard him croak.

“You sound awful.”

“Not as bad as you look. What are you wearing?”

“Daedric chest plate, Thieves Guild boots, Dark Brotherhood gloves and a mage’s hood.” Esil told him.

“You’re insane. I don't even want to know how you got them.”

“Most people think that these days. Listen, if I free you, will you help me?” Esil asked, pressing her face uncomfortably close to Ondolemar’s.

“Help with what?”

“I’m starting a war.”

“With who?”

“The Thalmor.” Esil said matter-of-factly.

“Then why are you asking me for help?” Ondolemar asked, trying to figure out her logic.

“Tell me, who locked you up down here?”

“Elenwen.” Ondolemar grimaced at the memory. He had been summoned to the Embassy, and as soon as he stepped over the threshold, he had been arrested and dragged down into the dungeon.

“Why?” _Why was she asking? Wouldn't it be simple to figure out?_ He thought.

“Conspiring with Talos worshippers.” He said impatiently.

“Right. Anyone in particular?” _Here’s where she was getting at._ Ondolemar thought.

“You.” He said.

“Mm-hm. Now, if I let you down, what would you do?”

“Kill you.” Ondolemar told her. Esil pursed her lips, her dull eyes just staring at him.

“Right. Ondolemar, what you're saying is this: you’d kill me, the little blind Dunmer who doesn't even know what Talos looks like, because your Thalmor buddies locked you up?” Esil cocked 

her head, now looking at him sideways and seemingly about to break her neck.

“Please don't talk to me. Your skills in debate keep improving with every encounter.”

“All thanks to you, dear.” Ondolemar didn't know if she was being sarcastic or not.

“Why are you here?”

“Because, my dear, there are so few pleasures in life as fine as your company.” Esil told him. Ondolemar sighed.

“Why do you decide to do these things? Can you make this any worse?”

“Probably. Want to try?” Esil asked. Ondolemar shook his head. “Great! Now maybe we—” Esil froze, her head looking up at the ceiling. Before he knew it, the little elf was scampering away out of his line of sight.

“Where are you going now? Get back here, you fool!” He said as two soldiers came down the stairs. “What do you want?” He asked harshly.

“Nothing much, _Justiciar_. But while there’s a battle up above, we’re going to have a little fun down here.” One pulled out his dagger, while the other twisted a gear, and Esil heard something crack. She pulled out her bow and notched an arrow. She could make out the golden outlines of the elves’ helmets, and loosed the arrow. With a clank, one fell down and in two seconds, the second one died as well with a shot to the eyeball.

Esil bounced back over to the Altmer, pressing her face uncomfortably close to his again.

“Hello again. Miss me?” She asked.

“Get me down from here.” He said.

“Why?” Esil cocked her head.

“Get me down!” Ondolemar practically roared.

“Fine, fine. Just be quiet.” Esil shrugged and began picking the locks on the shackles. With a satisfying click, they unlocked and the High Elf fell down onto the ground limply.

“Well?” Esil asked. She crouched down by him and pressed her hands into his back, using her healing hands spell.

“Thank you, Dunmer.” Ondolemar said.

“Just my species now? How long have you been down here?” She asked.

“When did we last meet?” He replied.

“About three weeks ago.”

“Then that’s how long I’ve been down here.” He sighed. “I guess I owe you.”

“Don’t think of it that way. Think of it as I helped you. Like I did when I found that Talos amulet for you. Except there wasn't any threat of death for either of us right then.” Esil said.

“That makes me feel so much better.” Ondolemar said sarcastically.

“Good. Get up, I need help.”

“Yes you do. And from what I gather, jail time is not the answer for that.” He accepted the offered hand and stood up stiffly.

“Not that kind of help.” Esil told him. “I need help in the war.”

“Why me?”

“I assumed that you’d be a bit pissed off at the Thalmor right now.” Esil shrugged.

“I am very ‘pissed off’ right now.” He said.

“With me?” Ondolemar sighed.

“No. You’re annoying, have a tendency to send things straight to shit, and you managed to single-handedly destroy any standing the Thalmor ever had in the Holds. But no, being pissed off is the one feeling I can never have towards you.” He grimaced.

“Seriously?” Esil asked.

“Seriously.”

“So who are you pissed off at?” Esil asked cautiously.

“Elenwen. And the Thalmor. I trusted them, and they betrayed me.”

“I’m pretty used to betrayal at this point.” Esil said.

“I’m sure.” Ondolemar said flatly.

“Will you fight with me?”

“Of course. I’m itching to kill something right now.” Esil grinned.

 

 


	51. Chapter 51

 

Ulfric watched as Marcurio led two Nords over to him.

“Where’s Esil?” He asked.

“Still back there. She told me to go on ahead. I have no idea what she’s doing.”

“No one does. But we need to start the attack and it looks like we’re doing it without her.” Ulfric shook his head. “Let’s hope we don't find her body.” A pit opened up in Marcurio’s stomach. He kept his breathing in check and nodded stiffly.

“Let’s go.” He said.

 

—

 

Esil and Ondolemar crept up the stairs. Esil used her bow to take down the Thalmor soldier at the top of the stairs, and then moved out of the way for Ondolemar to charge another Justiciar. She saw blue and purple lightning and the shimmering blue of a ward, but other than that she was confused as to what was happening. She held still and waited, and grinned when Ondolemar pulled her upright.

“I took the soldier’s armour. I’m going to miss those robes.”

“I like it.” Esil said. The Altmer shook his head and pulled her along.

“Everyone knows we’re here now. Put that bow away.”

“Stay out of my way when I use my melee weapons, okay?” Esil cocked her head. Ondolemar nodded.

“Of course.” Three elven soldiers rounded the corner and Esil charged at them, pulling out her mace. She grinned as she smashed their helmets and looked back at the Altmer.

“Is that my mace?” He asked.

“Maybe.”

“How did you get my mace?”

“I may have stolen it when you changed clothes in Markarth.”

“You idiot.” He glared at her. Oblivious, she smiled. He sighed and pushed her out of his way. “We need to keep moving.”

“Of course we do.” Esil said. She trotted after him as he blew through the ranks of the Thalmor inside the embassy with lightning bolts and fire. _Pretty lights, if they weren’t going to kill me._ Esil thought.

They exited the embassy and broke into a run down the steps. Esil whacked someone else with her stolen mace and then dropped it in the snow, charging the gates.

“Where the hell are you going now?” Ondolemar shouted.

“The real battle’s down the hill!” Esil replied, drawing her bow. She ran towards where she could just make out Ulfric fighting multiple Thalmor. She jumped up on top of a rock as he was knocked down, and an axe was raised above his head.

“Ulfric!” She screamed. “Remember this?” She saw heads turn in her direction. “ **Strun Ba Qo**!”

The sky turned grey and lightning began to strike down around her. She grinned as destruction rained down, slamming into the Embassy and around the battlefield.

“What the hell did she do?” Brynjolf shouted.

“It’s Helgen all over again!” Ralof shouted.

“She’s a Dovahkiin. The fool.” Ulfric muttered. Lightning struck the ground next to Ulfric, vaporising the axe-wielding Thalmor. The man stood, grabbed his sword and killed the other one. Esil smiled and jumped down from her perch as a rock hit it and it practically exploded behind her. She landed, firing an arrow into someone’s head. She vaguely saw Ondolemar running towards her, and a Thalmor shooting a firebolt into his chest. She felt fire at her back, and intense heat burning through her armour.

“ **Od Ah Viing**!” She barely had time to Shout before the ground rushed up toward her face.

 

Ulfric stood over her body and fought off Thalmor as they tried to kill both the Jarl and the Dragonborn. Nazir charged them in all his Redguard assassin fury. Esil was awake again, her head went up, and her nearly-sightless eyes searched for Ondolemar. She saw a body lying off by itself and she crawled towards it. Odahviing was above her, Shouting fire down onto the Thalmor. She found the body and grabbed its face, trying to identify it.

“Esil…”

“Okay, this is you.” She said. She heard the distinctive sound of a healing spell, and then the warmth of a healing spell used on her.

“Get up, little elf. We have a war to win.” Esil felt hands pulling her to her feet, and then a mace being pressed into her hands. “My mace. Take down everyone.” Esil grinned and was spun around to face the fight. She charged once more, screaming, flinging sparks everywhere.

“Behold the fury of Skyrim!” She screamed. She heard firebolts being thrown, and swung the mace wildly. She heard screams of fear, and felt something sharp collide with her face. She heard people running. Someone grabbed her shoulders.

“Esil, Esil! We’ve won. Stop swinging that thing around, you’ll take someone’s eye out.” She heard Marcurio’s voice in her ear, and she dropped her hands to her sides.

“We won?” Esil asked. Marcurio nodded, then remembered she couldn't see it.

“Yes, Esil. We’ve won.”

“I didn't kill our allies, right?” Esil was suddenly scared, and looked around, trying to see the bodies.

“No, Esil. You’re fine.”

“Why the hell is this Thalmor right here?” Esil looked towards where Ulfric’s voice boomed.

“That’s Ondolemar. He’s fine.” She said.

“He’s Thalmor!”

“Was, Jarl Ulfric.” Ondolemar said.

“He’s why I disappeared in the dungeon.” Esil muttered to Marcurio.

“Oh. Is he…” Esil almost laughed.

“No, love. Of course not. He’s my friend.” Esil bumped her head against Marcurio’s shoulder, and then walked over to where Ulfric was standing.

“This is Justiciar Ondolemar.” Esil said proudly.

“Former Justiciar, Esil.” Ondolemar folded his arms.

“Right. And he’s under my protection.” Esil told Ulfric.

“He is?” Ulfric asked.

“I am?” The Altmer asked.

“You are now. Get used to it.” Esil folded her arms and sat on one hip.

“So what am I allowed to do with him, Dragonborn?” Ulfric asked.

“You’re not allowed to imprison, interrogate or kill him. Well, if he breaks the law you can lock him up. But not randomly, or follow him, or… you know what, treat him like you treat me.”

“With mild suspicion and concern?” Ulfric asked.

“Ha ha… no.” Esil said, linking Ulfric’s and Ondolemar’s arms in hers and walking back toward where they had the tent. Brynjolf looked at her confusedly.

“What are you doing, lass?” He asked. She shrugged, letting go of their arms. “Anything else you need the Guild to do?”

“Go back and tell Vekel drinks are on me.” She told him. “I’ll be there soon.” He smirked and pulled his hood up over his head, leaving the tent and getting on his horse. “Oh, Brynjolf?” She shouted.

“Yes, lass?”

“Cap it at five for each, okay?” She asked.

“Of course, lass.” He snapped the reins and the horse cantered away.

“Thieve’s Guild?” Ondolemar asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Oh, nothing. Just the way you’d sneak around Markarth makes more sense now. And why my chest was often strangely devoid of gems and gold.” He said. She shrugged.

“I’m dirt poor most of the time, and your locks were easiest to pick.”

“And I said I’d forgive your criminal past.” Balgruuf commented from the other side of the tent.

“I was not a criminal before I entered Skyrim. It was after someone decided to let me head for Riften that I ended up in the Ratway.”

“I remember Lydia telling me that she attempted to dissuade you from that plan.” Balrguuf told her. Esil just shrugged.

“I don't steal from beggars, and I mostly leave the Jarls alone.”

“‘Mostly’?” Ulfric asks.

“Is there anything else to do? Or are we going to part ways until the Thalmor regroup?” Esil asked.

“I suppose that’s all we can do for now. Go home Esil. I’ll release the soldiers.” Ulfric told her. Esil nodded and grabbed Ondolemar’s arm once more.

“Follow me.” She said.

 

 


	52. Chapter 52

 

Esil led the way to the secret entrance, proudly banging her staff on the ground. Marcurio smiled as she opened up the way in, and led them into the Cistern. As she dropped her staff down and climbed down the ladder, an explosion of shouting was heard. As the two men dropped down after her they saw Brynjolf carrying her away to the centre.

“I know we don't usually celebrate death, but this little whelp managed to take out that Embassy!” He shouted. Esil laughed as she was spun around.

“Long live the Guild! The Thalmor aren't crushing our coin!” Esil shouted to the ceiling. “And it was thanks to you all that we won.” She hugged Brynjolf’s neck. “Documents mysteriously disappeared from the Embassy and the Solitude headquarters. I know that Rune and I hit the Embassy, but Solitude was a surprise. Trade routes have been compromised. Prisoners have been freed. Names have been erased. Strange, isn't it?” Vex began laughing. “You wouldn't have anything to do with the Solitude raid, would you, Vex?”

“Our Guild Master accuses me of stealing?” Vex asked, shocked. Delvin chuckled beside her.

“Does this happen often?” Ondolemar muttered to Marcurio.

“All the time.” The Imperial replied.

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“No. I’m used to it.”

“Brynjolf!” Esil shouted in his ear.

“By the Divines, what?” He asked.

“Let’s go get trashed!” She shrieked. He began laughing and carried her into the Flagon, the Guild members following, the Altmer and the Imperial trailing behind them cautiously.

“What the hell is going on?” Vekel asked loudly. Esil laughed.

“We won!”

“Won what?” Vekel asked.

“Everything! Break out the mead!” Esil ordered.

“Fine.” He said, and put bottles up on the counter. “I hope you have the gold to pay for this.”

“Of course I do, Vekel! But cap it at five, okay?” Vekel snorted.

 

—

 

Marcurio led Esil up the steps into Proudspire Manor.

“Got something before we attacked. Thought you might like a new house.” Marcurio said. Esil squealed as she went inside, dancing slightly.

“It’s beautiful!” She said, then stood still and looked at her husband. “You would do this for me?”

“The inn in Riften is not going to work for a long-term living arrangement. I decided to get us a new place.” He said. Esil grinned and ran off through the house.

Ondolemar entered the house cautiously, glancing around at the room’s furnishings. It was bare, a table and chairs were the only decoration in the centre of the room. The entire house was like that—only items that could be used were kept as furnishings. Marcurio walked over to their kitchen and re-lit the fire.

“You’re fine with this arrangement?” Ondolemar asked.

“Esil is. She doesn't trust easily, so if she likes you, that’s good enough for me.” Marcurio said, his back to the former Thalmor.

“Thank you. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.” He turned and began perusing the shelves. Esil came crashing down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom, getting back up and beckoned to Ondolemar. She turned and rapped the stairs as she walked down them, motioning for the Altmer to follow.

“There’s a bed down here. I don't like it, but it’ll do for you, right?” Esil asked.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Ondolemar told her as she pushed the door open to reveal a bedroll surrounded by crates.

“You sure?” Esil asked. He sighed, and then chuckled.

“It’ll work.” He told her. Esil nodded and began walking back up the stairs. “Oh, Esil?” She turned. “Thank you. For everything. I’d still be down there, dying, if not for you.” Esil smiled.

“You’re my friend. I’m just sorry that I didn't find you sooner.” She said.

 

—

 

“Ambassador?” A Thalmor man asked. Elenwen turned and glared at him.

“What?”

“They’re gone. It’s safe now.”

“I know they’re gone, fool! Where were they headed?” She snapped.

“To the east. Towards Windhelm.”

“Ready the reserves. Send couriers to the Aldmeri Dominion. We have to stop them.” Elenwen grabbed parchment and a quill. “And find me that Dunmer girl.”

 

—

 

“Listen to me, Esil. They are regrouping. They will be back. And they will be stronger. You caught them by surprise. They will be expecting another attack.” Ondolemar told the Dunmer girl as she paced the basement floor, glaring. Marcurio watched the two out of the corner of his eye as he mixed potions idly.

“I know, I know!” Esil shouted.

“And?”

“I don't know! What do you think?” Esil stopped walking and stared at Ondolemar.

“Surrender.” He said, not meeting her eyes. “The Thalmor are incredibly powerful. Everything will burn.”

“And I get the feeling that everything will burn if we decide on your course of action.” Esil told him harshly.

“More peace talks?” Marcurio asked. “Like how you paused the war to focus on Alduin?”

“I doubt that would work. Ondolemar?” The Altmer shook his head.

“Not anymore.”

“I say we straight-up murder every single one of them.” Esil said.

“Wait— if we were to capture Elenwen, we’d have at least some leverage against them.” Ondolemar stood up quickly.

“So how would we do that? Break back into the Embassy?” Esil asked sarcastically. Ondolemar nodded. “Tell me that wasn’t a nod. I’m blind, please lie.”

“Why would I lie? We’re going into the Embassy and we’re going to drag her out.”

“So sorry to interrupt your basement council, but there are footsteps upstairs.” Marcurio said. The other two turned, looking at the ceiling.

“We lock the doors. Who has a key to the place?” Esil asked.

“You, me, the Solitude steward.” Marcurio said. Esil glanced at the enchanting table and where the weapon racks were. She grabbed her bow and quiver, drawing an arrow. Marcurio quietly walked over next to her, summoning flames and sparks. Ondolemar grabbed his mace. The footsteps grew louder above them.

“Esil? Where are you?” Esil lowered her bow as she heard Ulfric’s voice. Marcurio nodded.

“Down in the basement. Knock next time, all right?” Esil asked. Then **bang** — the back door flew open and Thalmor charged down the stairs. Esil saw Ulfric being marched down at sword point, and then a soldier hit her with a spell and she blacked out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry.


	53. Chapter 53

Esil woke up slowly. She was lying on her side on a hard rocky floor. She opened her eyes and saw the dim outlines of cell bars. Glancing over she saw the slumped form of what she assumed was Ulfric, then the yellow robes of Marcurio. She didn't see any shape resembling Ondolemar. She pushed herself upright, looking around cautiously. She didn't recognise the area, but it was much larger than the interrogation room of the Embassy. She looked up and shivered as a blast of icy wind blew through. The walls were made of ice, and Esil dimly saw a Frost Atronach walk by.

“This isn't happening. This can't be happening.” Esil muttered. She heard a faint scream. “Ulfric, Ulfric, wake up!” Esil said quietly, trying to tug on the man’s clothes. When she realised she couldn't reach him, she grabbed a stone and tossed it at him, glancing furtively at the Atronach. It ignored her, continuing on its rounds. She threw another stone, this one bouncing off of the bars of the cage. She bit her lip, listening carefully. She saw a brown form in another cage, and threw a stone at it. The shape jerked upright.

“What the hell?”

“Hi Galmar.” Esil said.

“Oh great, it’s you.”

“Yup.” Esil turned and threw another stone at Ulfric.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” Esil asked. “I need him up.” She threw someone’s femur at the Nord and with a surprised gasp Ulfric woke up.

“Where are we?” He asked.

“The Chill. It’s above Winterhold.” Esil said, her voice quivering slightly.

“Is that fear I hear in the Dragonborn’s voice?” Galmar asked.

“Yes. Yes it is.” Esil said with finality. “Can you see if Marcurio’s still alive?” She asked. Ulfric nodded and reached out with a bone, prodding the robes. In about a minute Marcurio was awake as well.

“Well this sucks.” He said. Esil began pulling at the lock. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get out. I—” She froze as Thalmor came into the jail. Esil quickly pulled her hands inside the cage and watched as a limp body was dropped on the ground. An Altmer woman walked in.

“It seems you three in particular have made a laughingstock of the Thalmor.” Elenwen glared at Ulfric, Esil and Galmar.

“I try.” Esil said sarcastically and a guard hit the bars with his sword, causing her to jump backwards.

“Ulfric, you’ve gained weight since we talked last.” Elenwen looked him over. Ulfric glared at her.

“All right, why am I here?” Marcurio asked.

“Because you’ve shown dissent one too many times. You’re also in league with these three.” Elenwen looked the Imperial straight in the eye. Marcurio gritted his teeth and stared right back.

“So what do you want with us?” Galmar broke the silence.

“Information on your movements. And when we’re done with that, we’ll make an example of you.” Elenwen folded her arms proudly.

“You realise that the moment I disappeared several groups became suspicious? They’ll be tracking me down.”

“Oh, you mean your assassins and thieves? My dear Esil, you’re a wanderer. No one will be looking for you, because you’ve made it clear that you go where you please, when you please, and for as long as you please.” Esil’s eyes widened. “Your Guild will be assuming that you’ve wandered off again, doing some sort of job for the Dark Brotherhood, and your assassins will assume that you’re doing jobs for the Guild.” Elenwen turned and began to leave the room.

“You five are stuck here. I’d suggest you get used to it.”


	54. Chapter 54

Esil curled up against the bars of the cage, hiding her head between her knees. She ignored the Thalmor’s brutal attacks on Ulfric and Galmar, ignored the body being flung into a cage next to her, ignored everything around her. She kept her eyes shut and her mouth closed. She didn't want to move or speak.

“Esil.” She ignored the weak voice. “Esil, I know you’re awake. Look at me.” She didn’t. “Esil, I’m begging you. Look at me.” Coughing. Esil opened her eyes and looked over. Ondolemar was lying against the bars. He was covered in blood and his eyes were dead.

“What?” She whispered.

“Lock…pick…” He croaked. Everyone else was asleep, it was just the two of them.

“What about a lock pick?” She asked. He shakily held one up.

“Stole… one…” He grinned, displaying bloodied gums and missing teeth. She reached for it, taking the cool metal in her callused hand. “Get… out…” He whispered.

“I’m getting out.” She said, reaching for the lock. “And I’m coming over to you.”

“No… Get out… and run…” Ondolemar ordered as she opened the cage door. She shook her head and crawled over to him.

“Where are you bleeding?” She asked.

“Get out…”

“I’m not leaving you to die.” She told him. Ondolemar shook his head.

“They’ll kill me anyway… Get out while you can…” Esil took his hand, curling her fingers tightly around it.

“I can’t. I said there are two people I count as friends, you remember that, right?” The Altmer nodded. “It’s you and Marcurio. I told him that if he was killed I’d slaughter everyone close to the murderer. I think I’d do that for you as well.” Esil said. She raised her hand and glowing Restoration magic circled it. “Please, don't die on me.” She whispered, pressing it into his arm. Ondolemar smiled weakly.

“You’re an idiot…” He said as colour began to return to his face. Esil turned as footsteps approached. She scampered away into her cage, closing the door and locking it again, pressing herself against the back bars. Two Thalmor soldiers entered the jail, approaching her cage. One unlocked it, the other reached for her. She curled up tightly into a ball. Cold gloved hands grabbed her ankle and pulled. She growled and grabbed the bars of the cell, shaking her head. Both ankles were grabbed and she felt her grip slipping.

“No.” She said, wrapping her arms around the bars and linking her hands. Both soldiers took her ankles and pulled. Her grip broke and she was dragged out of the cage, clawing the hard icy ground as she went, swearing all the way.

 

—

 

Elenwen frowned as Esil was brought in. The soldiers dropped her legs and left the room. Fingernail marks could be visibly seen leading into the room. She bent down over the Dunmer, grabbing her chin and lifting it so their eyes met.

“What do you want?” Esil asked.

“Where are your troops moving?”

“I’m not in charge of that. Ulfric tells me when to fight, and I fight.”

“I don't believe you.” Elenwen dropped Esil.

“Too bad, it’s the truth.”

“No. You’re more independent than that. You don't always just go where he wants, you must give him ideas for strategies and battles.” Elenwen walked over to the other side of the room.

“Why would he trust my judgement?” Esil slowly stood up. “I’m not the best person to ask for advice.” Elenwen didn't face her.

“You have no control or knowledge of where your ‘Stormcloaks’ are hiding?”

“Check the Holds. It’s not that hard, they all wear blue.” Esil shrugged. Elenwen smirked.

“We are.” She turned back to the Dunmer. “We’re scouring the Holds. The Thalmor are rounding them up as we speak. And you know what we’re going to do? We’re going to hold a mass execution. In public. We’re going to utilise some chopping blocks that have fallen into disuse.” Elenwen grabbed Esil’s shoulders. “And you, Ulfric Stormcloak and Galmar Stone-Fist are going to watch.”

 


	55. Chapter 55

“Esil, stop. That’s not going to help.” Marcurio said as Esil hung from the top of the cage. She looked at him upside-down and shrugged.

“I do what I want.” She said, scuttling along the length of the cage roof.

“Esil, get down. It’s annoying.” Ulfric told her.

“How about I scream? Would that be better? Because I need to do one or the other.” Esil told him.

“Great. Locked up with someone about to go off like a bomb.” Galmar muttered.

“I’m like a small explosion. In a wooden shack.” Esil said to no one in particular.

“Yes you are.” Marcurio said. Esil looked over at where Ondolemar was sleeping.

“Wake up!” She shouted. The Altmer jumped, looking around.

“What the hell, Esil?” He asked blearily.

“Pay attention to me!” She said.

“You’ve got three people who are doing that already.” Ondolemar groaned.

“Marcurio!” Esil shrieked.

“Oh gods, what?” Marcurio rammed his head against the bars.

“Lock picks!” She fell onto the ground and began kicking the door.

“What about lock picks?” He asked.

“Everything!” Esil screamed. Her eyes were wide and she was running into the bars of the cage, leaping around as best she could. Ondolemar curled up into a ball, covering his head. Galmar threw a skull at the dark elf in an attempt to shut her up. It simply hit her in the back of the head and she began laughing uncontrollably, falling to the ground and rocking back and forth.

Three Thalmor soldiers and Elenwen entered the jail, and stopped as they watched Esil trying to control the mania.

“Stop her before she breaks something.” Elenwen ordered.

“If I knew how to do that I’d have solved the problem a long time ago.” Ulfric told her. “Just let her burn it off.” One of the Thalmor opened the cage to try and grab her, but Esil darted out from under his arm and launched herself at the ice column supporting the ceiling. She began scrabbling up it until she was roosted at the top, in a small alcove between the column and the ceiling.

“Get her down from there!” The other Thalmor began trying to find a ladder while Elenwen slammed the empty cage’s door shut. “Get Galmar. He’s next.” She snapped, striding away. Esil was singing as Galmar was dragged away, leaving just the one soldier to deal with them. Esil grinned and dropped down onto him, slamming him into the ground.

“Help!” The Altmer shouted as Esil punched him, her eyes wide, her sharp teeth stretched in an insane grin. Two Thalmor ran in, pulling her off of him. She was flung back in the cage and the door was locked.

“Are you insane? You could have escaped!” Ulfric asked as the soldiers took up posts along the wall, watching them suspiciously.

“What?” Esil asked. Ulfric looked confused.

“You had an opportunity, why didn't you take it?”

“Opportunity… there’s a shit load of Thalmor in the other room!”

“I forgot about that.” Ulfric sighed.

“He’ll be having a massive black eye soon, though.” Marcurio said.

“Good.” Esil laid face down on the ground, not moving.

 

—

 

“How long has it been?” Marcurio croaked from his corner.

“Days. A week. Several months. I don't know. And we can’t tell time by Esil.” Galmar said angrily. Esil stuck her tongue out at him, earning a stone thrown at her.

“Elenwen’s pissed. Something’s gone wrong for her.” Ondolemar muttered from where he lay in a heap next to a skeleton.

“I think we’re not giving her fresh information.” Galmar said.

“I bet the Stormcloaks aren't such a pushover as she assumed.” Ulfric said proudly.

“I think a dragon ate everything.” Esil said flatly.

“Either way someone’s coming in here.” Marcurio said. They watched as footsteps approached them, and a figure entered. It was hard to make out because of the darkness, but as it approached it split into two. Then a brightly coloured jester began running towards Esil.

“Listener, you are alive! Cicero knew you could not have died!” Esil watched in shock as Nazir bent down, unlocking the cage.

“How the hell did you find me?” Esil asked as she crawled out.

“Babette, actually. She did some searching when you hadn't sent us anything for the past month like you usually do.”

“You send the Dark Brotherhood letters?” Galmar asked incredulously. Esil took the offered key and busied herself with unlocking Marcurio’s cage.

“Someone’s got to give them the contract information.” She said as the cage door swung open. Galmar’s door was unlocked as well, and soon the other two men were free as well.

“Cicero, go make sure Babette’s still alive, all right?” Nazir ordered.

“You brought Babette.” Esil said.

“Yeah, how else were we going to get through all those Thalmor?” Nazir asked. Esil shrugged. A small blurred form charged in, wrapping its arms around Esil’s leg.

“You’re alive! We told Nazir you had to be.” Babette detached herself from Esil’s leg and grinned, her pointed teeth glinting.

“We can say hello later. For now I’m getting us out of here.” Nazir said bluntly, motioning for the prisoners to follow him.

“What happened since I disappeared?” Esil asked.

“Windhelm got attacked, Solitude’s under Thalmor control, and Falkreath has been under siege for a week. They’ve got some fight, I’ll give them that.” Esil stepped out into the cold on a hard, rocky beach surrounded by glaciers. She shivered slightly, eyeing the glaciers.

“I can see Winterhold.” Marcurio said.

“Yup. We’re right on the edge of the border here.” Esil told him. “I’d suggest we head inland.”

“I assume you have a good knowledge of Skyrim’s jails.” Ulfric said.

“Of course. Where are we going, Nazir?” Esil looked a the Redguard.

“Feel like glacier hopping? We couldn't get the boat past the ice once we hit Winterhold.” Nazir told her. Esil nodded calmly.

“I just want out of here.” Galmar said right behind Esil, causing her to jump. She ran at the ice, leaping onto it, sliding, and then kept running.

“Does she do this often?” Nazir asked Marcurio.

“Yeah.” He sighed and chased after his wife.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course she’s done it before. Side note: I based Esil’s manias on her… cycle. And finally a longer chapter is put up.


	56. Chapter 56

“Cicero does not like ‘glacier hopping’. Cicero will be quite happy when he is back on solid land!” The jester complained as he followed Esil towards the shore. The boat they had tried to use had been smashed against two moving glaciers, broken into wooden planks. They had had to swim the short distance from the boat to the shore of Winterhold, and were freezing by the time they hit the beach. Ondolemar collapsed, Galmar tripping over him. Nazir carried Babette onto the shore and set her down before drawing his sword and checking their surroundings. Esil grinned as Ulfric and Marcurio dragged themselves out of the ocean, using each other for support. Marcurio simply glared at her as she snickered.

 

—

 

“Babette, go get the door open, would you?” Nazir asked as they approached the Sanctuary.

“We’re not going inside, right?” Ulfric asked.

“Safest place in Skyrim. Not many know about it, and the people in Dawnstar are too scared to approach it. They’d need to blow us up again to get inside.” Esil said proudly as the door swung open. “Nazir, you’ve cleaned the blood that gets tracked in up, right?” She added quickly.

“I tried, but it gets stuck between the stones. You get used to the smell, though.”

“You couldn't put in some flowers?” Esil asked him as they entered the dark tunnel.

“I was going to, but Babette here wouldn't take anything other than nightshade and deathbell.”

“If we’re going to have flowers, they need to have some use.” Babette told them from below.

“Dragon tongue has its uses!” Esil exclaimed.

“You can’t kill anyone with it!” Esil turned and stopped at the foot of the stone steps, looking up at the trail of men following her.

“Welcome to my home.” She said quietly. Marcurio’s eyes widened as he took it in. Completely made out of stone, and well lit. There was a huge coffin in one corner, and in another a garden. They were on a ledge, overlooking a large table and huge stained glass picture of Sithis.

“You never told me about this.” He said.

“Yeah I did. I said I was going to be in Dawnstar. I told you about the assassinations, right?”

“Yeah, I thought you were joking.” Marcurio walked into the Sanctuary, looking around in nervousness and awe.

“This is where you hole up when we can’t find you, isn't it?” Ulfric asked. Esil nodded. “Everything is becoming more clear now.” The Jarl said. Galmar was silent, his arms folded and his face stern.

“Hey, if you don't want to be in a safe place until we can effectively plan a counterattack, feel free to go back up and wander around a Thalmor-occupied Skyrim.” Esil said as Galmar made a disapproving grunt.

“We have no choice, old friend. For now we have to stay here.” Ulfric said to the man.

“Fine. I’m not happy about this, though.” The older Nord told them. Esil hummed and walked down towards where Nazir was.

“Nazir, we can let them have beds, right?” Esil asked.

“Well, yeah. We’ve got some spares in back.” Nazir nodded.

“Follow me, Ondolemar.” Esil took the Altmer’s arm. He had been swaying slightly, trying to keep his eyes open. Now he could barely walk, practically collapsing on top of Esil. She fought to keep him upright while he tried to remain conscious. Marcurio grabbed one of his arms and slung it over his shoulder, Esil doing the same, though it was less effective as she was a good half foot shorter than Marcurio.

“I’ll leave you to it. Play nice.” Esil said as they dragged the former Thalmor into one of the tunnels. Ulfric folded his arms and stared Nazir down.

 

—

 

“Where are we? I don’ remember goin’ in here…” Ondolemar slurred as the two dropped him on a bed.

“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better later.” Esil told him.

“I think he’ll feel worse later.” Marcurio said quietly as Ondolemar began snoring.

“Headache, yes. Sore limbs, definitely. It’s nothing a healing potion can’t fix.” Esil said, leaving the room.

“Esil—”

“This is about the running off randomly isn't it? The making enemies? Attacking everything? Aggravating the Thalmor? I know exactly what I’ve done, and I’m working very hard to keep everything under control.” Esil said, stopping in the corridor.

“Yeah. That’s most of it.” Marcurio said. “But I’d also like to thank you.” Esil turned, looking slightly stunned.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Esil asked incredulously.

“You have a safe place. Somewhere no one can get inside.” Marcurio told her.

“They got in the last one.” Esil told him flatly.

“No one knows about this one. I think we’re going to make it.” Marcurio hugged her tightly. “But if they do find us, I’ll die protecting you.” Esil grabbed his head and kissed him.

“Even if I’m protecting you?” She asked.

“If you’re protecting me, who’s going to save your elf friend’s ass?” Esil giggled.

“He can protect himself. He’s not completely useless.” She told him. Marcurio snorted.

“Sure he is.”

“Come on— I think we need to go back to Nazir and Ulfric before they murder each other.” Esil told him. Marcurio laughed.

 

—

 

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Ondolemar had been woken up and was still half-asleep. Ulfric and Galmar sat close to each other, staring daggers at Nazir. Esil was at one end, Marcurio the other, while Babette tried to talk alchemy and Cicero told Esil bloody, nightmarish stories.

“So you literally suffocated someone with his own stomach?” Esil asked, taking bites of her salmon. Cicero nodded eagerly. “And then what?”

“Oh, Cicero took his heart and went back to Mother with it!” Cicero exclaimed. Ulfric looked mildly ill.

“No, nightshade is a perfectly good plant.” Babette said.

“It’s just highly poisonous.” Marcurio reminded the vampire.

“Yeah, well, it’s used in cooking sometimes, so…” Babette turned back to her dinner.

“Tell me, Listener.” Nazir looked Esil in the eye. “What are you planning on doing?” The table went silent.

“Try to keep Ulfric from murdering you.” Esil said flatly, her face blank. “Other than that, try and wait it out— hide for about a week, then begin planning counterattacks.”

“I am not sitting down here for a week.” Ulfric growled, staring the elf down.

“Fine. Go up and… do whatever it is you do.” Esil waved her hand dismissively.

“I don't like him, but he has a point. I’m not having this many people stuck down here for a week. It won’t work.” Nazir told Esil. She closed her eyes.

“Then what do we do?” She asked. “Got better ideas?”

“Scouts. We need to find the rest of the Stormcloaks and warn them.” Galmar said. Esil opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling.

“Cicero, you can track people down, right?” She asked.

“Of course, Listener! Cicero can do anything!”

“Good. Ulfric, write some letters. Cicero will find the Stormcloaks.”

 


	57. Chapter 57

Ralof stood in the outskirts of a grove, down in the wilderness of Falkreath. He leaned against a tree, keeping watch. He didn't like the placement of their camp, where they were pressed against a steep cliff, but he supposed that anyone trying to attack from above would have problems getting down. He jerked his head up, peering into the forest. Turning slightly he saw a helmeted soldier with her bow drawn, signalling he wasn't the only one who heard footsteps coming in quietly through the brush, or the rustle of dead leaves.

“Cicero needs to deliver this letter to the commander!” Ralof nearly screamed as a brightly-coloured jester was suddenly in front of him. He struggled to get his breathing under control while his heart hammered in his chest

“Who… who the hell are you?” Ralof asked, gasping.

“I am Cicero, Keeper of the Night Mother. Where is your commander?”

“He’s… I’m not letting you in this camp. Who sent you? Thalmor?”

“No, of course not! Silly High Elves with their arrogant ways. No, Cicero comes from the Listener, she—Esil. That is her name. Esil the dark elf, mistress of the bow!” Cicero bounced a little where he stood.

“Okay… can you prove that Esil sent you?” He was handed a piece of parchment.

 

_Ralof, you’d better let this guy in. Skyrim depends on it. Esil._

 

The words were loosely scrawled, and the paper was stained with ink and messy fingerprints.

“That’s Esil, all right. Follow me.” Ralof said, nodding. Cicero danced in place and followed the Nord into the camp.

 

“The guy’s crazier than Esil.” Ralof muttered to Balgruuf, taking a seat by the fire. The former Jarl snorted, and offered him a tankard. Ralof took it, grateful, and took a deep drink.

“That he is. Let’s hope he actually has information.”

“Let’s hope he doesn't attract too much attention.” Ralof corrected, as other soldiers eyed the commander’s tent suspiciously.

“Yes, let’s.” The two stood as the commander exited the tent, Cicero on his heels. With a dismissive wave of the Nord man’s hand the jester ran off back into the forest.

“Well?” Ralof asked.

“Guys a complete nutter. Gave me a letter though, from Ulfric. Says to regroup and lay low for as long as possible. When the Thalmor get a bit more relaxed we can start to retake Skyrim.”

“And any word as to their location?”

“Just that they’re hiding. Wouldn’t expect much else, who knows what eyes might have seen the letters.”

“True. Thank you, commander.” Balgruuf said. The man nodded and went back into his tent.

“Esil keeps strange company.” Ralof commented.

“Understatement of the entire year.” Balgruuf sighed and took another swig of his mead.

 

—

 

“Listener, Cicero has found them! They are in Falkreath, near the mountains!” Cicero whooped as he leapt down the stairs towards where Esil stood.

“Thank you!” Esil exclaimed, then turned to Ulfric. “Unlike you, I have faith in my people.”

“I don't have faith in you or your decisions, though. I thought we’d been over that before.” Ulfric said.

“Yeah, well, Cicero’s an assassin. If the Thalmor tried to kill him—”

“They tried. Three attacked poor Cicero near Rorikstead. The silly Thalmor, they thought they could take Cicero. There are three heads lining the road so very neatly on little pikes. So very neatly…”

“Good. That’s all I need, Cicero, thank you.” Esil said, grinning. Cicero smiled and danced off.

“I asked you to do something about the dancing, Listener.” Nazir moaned from his post by the cooking pot.

“And I tried. But instructions sometimes go over his head.” Esil shrugged. Nazir groaned, giving the soup a violent stir.

“Could you go talk to Babette? She was asking for you earlier, while you were in the crypt. She’s in the bedrooms.” Esil nodded and ran past the Redguard.

 

—

 

“Hello, Esil. I’m a bit concerned about your friend here.” Babette gestured to Ondolemar. “He’s been asleep for almost two days now.”

“That’s not normal?” Esil asked.

“No, my dear Listener. It’s not. I’d like to try and figure out what’s wrong with him, but he attacks me every time I get too close.”

“You want me to hold him down, don't you.”

“No, I want you to do as I instruct. Take his heart rate, check his eyes and breathing. It’s obvious that he’s sick, I just don't know what disease he has.” Esil nodded and walked over to the Altmer.

“Isn’t Marcurio somewhere around here?” Esil asked as she pressed her fingers to Ondolemar’s wrist.

“He tried to help. Your friend there punched him. He’s upstairs, reading.” Esil pried open the man’s eye, looking at his pupil.

“Wha’s it?” Ondolemar slurred. “Not time for awake…”

“Well someone’s got issues.” Esil told him.

“Nod me… definitely you…”

“I think it’s a slow-acting poison.” Babette said.

“So we need a cure poison potion.” Esil told her.

“Yeah. Trouble is, I don't know how to make one.” Babette looked embarrassed, staring at the floor. Esil groaned.

“I’ll go find Marcurio.” She said. They left the hyperventilating Altmer alone.

 

—

 

“Oi, Marcurio, you know how to make a poison cure, right?” Esil took her husband’s book away from him.

“Yes…”

“Make one.” She ordered, planting a light kiss on his forehead. He sighed, standing up and approaching the alchemy table.

“For who?”

“You know who.” Esil told him as she hung over his shoulder, watching. In about a minute he handed her a small vial.

“Don’t drop it.” He warned. She nodded, bounding off.

 

—

 

“How long have I been out?” Ondolemar sat up, looking around.

“About three days.” The little vampire said helpfully.

“Divines, my head…”

“Yeah, potions will do that to you. How’d you end up poisoned?”

“Knives… probably had something on them. I was paralysed a few times as well.” Ondolemar stood.

“You managed to give Marcurio a pretty massive black eye when you were out of it.” Esil said calmly.

“By Akatosh… I have to apologise, don't I?” Esil nodded.

 

—

 

“When will we be able to walk around up top?” Marcurio asked softly. He and Esil were sprawled on a bed in one of the cold stone rooms. She prodded the slightly swollen purple bruise that ringed Marcurio’s eye. Ondolemar had awkwardly asked forgiveness, and Marcurio had accepted the apology uncomfortably as they entered the main room for dinner.

“Soon, I hope. I’ll send Cicero out tomorrow to look around.”

“Why do you trust him? He’s insane.”

“I can trust him to make nonsensical decisions, and I can rest assured that no matter what, he’ll be loyal to me. Our minds are somewhat similar.” Esil explained. Marcurio nodded.

“And do you trust Ondolemar?”

“He’s an arrogant bastard, and I’ve told him as much a few times. He’s got a grudge, and he’s my friend. I trust him.”

“Ulfric and Galmar.”

“No.” Esil said frankly. “I don’t. Ulfric I can assume is trying to make good decisions, but I think he has ulterior motives. Galmar I trust a bit more because I know his mindset— he only takes orders from Ulfric. He’s a man with one loyalty. I don't trust either of them, but they’re the best I can find right now in terms of capable leaders.” Esil curled up against the Imperial’s side.

“Nazir and Babette?”

“Like with Cicero, they’re loyal to me. I’d trust them with my life. Hell, I am trusting them with my life. And with your life. Yes, I do.”

“And me?” Esil looked him in the eye. Marcurio looked sad, and there was fear mixed in as well.

“Of course. I love you. If there’s not trust in love, what good is it?” Esil cocked her head. Marcurio smiled weakly. “Do you trust me?”

“I have to, don't I? I trusted you whenever we delved into bandit camps and ruins. I’ll admit, I had very little faith in you at first, but it changed.”

“How?”

“When you risked your own life to save mine. When you took a risk, shooting the ropes free. When you refused to kill me, instead taking out the bandit leader. That’s when I began trusting you. When you defended me and watched my back.” He hugged her tightly. “And now I’m going to trust that you’ve put your trust in the right people.”

“I’m just scared that I haven’t.” Esil whispered.

“Hey, now. Where’s that wild girl I met in Riften a year and a half ago? The insane Dunmer who was incredibly confident and extremely obnoxious? Where’d she go?”

“She got a taste of war. She made mistakes and questioned her companions’ actions. She wondered why she was doing these things. And then watched her world fall apart.”

“Sometimes I still see her. You’re still wild, and you’re still dangerous. You’re good at hiding, but you can’t hide from the Thalmor forever.” Marcurio told her, still burying the little elf in his arms.

“I know. But until I have to emerge, I’m going to prepare. I’m not letting my friends down. Not again. Not ever again.” Esil said into Marcurio’s chest. “I can promise you that.”

 

 


	58. Chapter 58

 

Marcurio slowly woke up to someone standing over the bed. Esil opened her eyes at about the same time.

“Let’s kill someone!” Cicero grinned madly. Esil didn't react, but Marcurio screamed and fell off the bed,

“Cicero, I told you about the rules. Remember?”

“Don’t kill allies?”

“Not that one.”

“Don’t go in the Listener’s chambers unless she invites you?”

“Bingo.” Esil stood up, and Cicero ran out of the room. Marcurio stood up as well, and eyed her. She stood still, her back straight and her legs stiff. Her eyes were open and Marcurio was sure she was watching him in the corner of her eye.

“Well that was a wake-up call.” He joked. She didn't answer. “What’s wrong?” He asked, entering her line of sight fully.

“Everything was true, right?” She asked bluntly. Marcurio sighed.

“Of course. Why would I lie to you.” Esil just shrugged.

“It’s hard to let people in.” She wrapped her arms around him suddenly, squeezing his chest tightly. Marcurio shook his head and returned the hug.

“I know. But you’re getting there. Come on, I’m hungry.” He pried his wife off of him and she followed him into the main room.

“Well look who’s up.” Nazir said, handing Esil a bowl of soup. She shrugged and walked over to the table. Marcurio followed with his own meal, sitting across from her. As they ate an explosion of noise was heard near the door. Cicero and Babette came crashing in, Cicero whooping, Babette grinning ear to ear.

“What the hell did you do, you she-devil?” Nazir asked.

“Got a message from a courier. From Stormcloaks. I took it while Cicero was scouting. This Ralof guy’s almost got everything in place.” Esil jumped up and screamed, throwing her hands in the air. The others jumped, turning worriedly, but Esil just shot off down the hall screeching like a banshee.

“Ulfric get your ass up! It’s almost time for war!” Esil shouted, bursting into the room where the Jarl, Galmar and Ondolemar slept. The three stood quickly, still trying to process the information through half-awake brains.

“What?”

“Stormcloaks!” Esil just screamed and ran back out. The three followed her, charging down the steps and into the main room, where Esil vaulted the table and ran into a wall.

“Your army is almost regrouped.” Babette said simply. Esil ran around in the background, still screaming. Cicero joined in, following her in circles through the Sanctuary.

“Good. Thank you, girl.” Ulfric said, taking the letter and reading it quickly.

“Is it forged?” Galmar asked suspiciously.

“It doesn't look like it. I’m going to trust that Ralof is alive and well for now.”

“Ooh, does the Jarl need Cicero to go and ask for Ralof again? Cicero would be happy too—”

“No.” Ulfric said shortly. Cicero closed his mouth and nodded silently. Esil ran into the room and slid to a stop in front of Nazir.

“What do you need us to do, Listener?” He asked.

“Find some horses. We’re riding to Falkreath.” Esil told him. The Redguard nodded and left.

 

—

 

“Esil, what the hell are you doing?” Marcurio watched as Babette carried several large vials of stinking liquid down to where Esil was sitting with her quiver in a bucket. She took the vials and simply poured them into the bucket, pressing the quiver down into it to soak.

“Poisoning my quiver.” She said.

“Why?” Marcurio asked incredulously.

“The fumes and residue from the poison will latch onto the arrows. She’ll poison those, too, but either way, anything she hits isn’t getting up.” Babette said calmly, bringing her more paralysing poisons.

“And I found a spell that keeps your arrows in the quiver until you pull them out. They can’t fall out, someone has to deliberately take them out.” Esil said brightly, taking out the quiver and slathering tar on the outside. She took her arrows and laid them in the bucket.

“Do you realise how much that stinks?” Ulfric walked in, coughing.

“I kind of stopped smelling about an hour ago.” Esil said calmly, dropping her arrows in the quiver. The black door opened and shut and footsteps charged down the stairs.

“Good news! We’ve got your horses.” Nazir said, standing at the top landing. Esil grinned and slung the quiver on her back.

 

—

 

“This is what we’ve got? To ride across Skyrim?” Galmar asked incredulously as Cicero and Nazir led several horses up to them.

“Find your own mounts if you don’t like it.” Nazir told him curtly. Babette snickered behind them.

“Oh, Listener, could Cicero come too? Cicero wouldn't make much noise, and could be oh so helpful—”

“Gods, no.” Ulfric groaned. Esil nodded silently. Cicero leapt in the air and ran off again. Esil grabbed Shadowmere’s reins, bringing the stallion’s face down close to hers.

“I’ve missed you.” She said. “Ready to go to war?” Shadowmere snorted, his eyes glowing brightly. Esil grinned and mounted him, gathering the reins in her hands. Ondolemar silently leapt onto a spotted filly, while Ulfric and Galmar grabbed yellow horses.

“Where do I ride?” Marcurio asked. Esil pointed over her shoulder. “By Talos…” He muttered as he scrambled up onto the back of the demonic horse. Esil grinned as a brown Cicero-toting horse rode into view.

“Let us be off, Listener!” He said loudly.

“We’ll guard the Sanctuary. Any Thalmor come knocking, we know what to do.” Nazir assured the elf. Esil nodded.

“Let’s go before people notice our little group.” Ulfric told her. Esil turned the horse quickly, forcing Marcurio to loop his arms around her waist tightly.

“Let’s go. Babette, don't aggravate Nazir too much, all right?” The vampire just laughed as the group charged off down the coast, away from Dawnstar and up into the mountains.

 

—

 

They rode their horses hard, barely stopping for the steeds to take a breath, plowing through a blizzard and ignoring the wolves that dogged their tail.

As they rode down through the valley they noticed smoke near Markarth, but had to ignore it in favour of their destination.

As they neared Falkreath they finally slowed, their horses on the verge of collapse. Esil dismounted, Marcurio following, and let Shadowmere wander off.

“We’re close by now, Listener!” Cicero dismounted his horse, where it promptly collapsed, barely breathing. Esil moved to help it.

“We can’t stop for more than a minute.” Ulfric stopped her, dismounting his own horse.

“It won’t take more than a few seconds.” Esil assured him, using Restoration magic on the tired steed. The horse’s breathing picked up and it stood shakily, before wandering off to eat. Esil nodded to Cicero who began to lead them towards the camp.

 

—

 

As soon as they approached archers drew their bows and the soldiers standing watch blocked the path.

“Men, stand down.” Ulfric called. The soldiers did so, and allowed them through. When they entered the camp, however, the place exploded into angry shouts.

“Why the hell is a high elf in here!”

“Imperials don't belong here!”

“He’s a Thalmor spy!” Ralof stormed towards Esil, who glared.

“Why are they here?” He glowered. Ondolemar sighed.

“Stendarr’s mercy…” He muttered.

“He’s here because he’s willing to fight.” Esil told the Nord.

“High elves are the reason we’re fighting!” Someone shouted. Esil turned to Ulfric, but he was headed up into the commander’s tent, abandoning her.

“Of course.” Esil muttered.

“Altmer!” Ondolemar shouted, trying to correct them.

“I’m not here to attack you!” Marcurio told them.

“Yeah, yeah, sure you aren’t!” Ralof told the Imperial. Esil bared her teeth.

“You let me in.” She argued.

“You’re an officer!”

“I’m a _Dunmer_!” She screamed. “It was hard enough trying to get into the Stormcloaks, Skyrim’s home to more than just Nords you know!”

“You’re loyal!”

“So are they!”

“High elves don’t belong here!”

“Not all Altmer are Thalmor!” Esil bellowed.

“I _was_!” Ondolemar roared, only causing the angry Nords to get louder.

“For the love of Talos, **SHUT UP**!” Esil Shouted the last words, the ground shaking. The camp became silent. She breathed hard as she advanced towards Ralof. “You trust me, yes? Trust my judgement. The Altmer is under my protection. The Imperial is my husband. I don't make friends easily, and I expect you to show the same open-mindedness you showed when you let me into your home. Got it?” She said harshly, the growl of a Shout still in the undertone of her voice. Ralof shakily took a breath.

“Forgive me. I forgot about you.” He said quietly. “I’ll try and keep the others off your back.” Esil nodded, her heart rate slowing.

“Thank you.” Esil said shortly, turning and walking back to the three men. She turned to Cicero. “Head back to the Sanctuary. Guard it with your life.”

“Of course, Listener! Cicero would guard it any way, but he shall do so doubly now!” She watched as the jester ran into the forest.

“Well?” Marcurio asked.

“They should stay off your back. No guarantee, though.” Esil said.

“They’re not yelling. It’s an improvement.” Ondolemar told her.

“Elf, if you’re done arguing, we have a war to plan!” Galmar shouted from the tent opening. Esil snorted.

“Of course.” She muttered, and turned to walk in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun to write. That is all.


	59. Chapter 59

 

“How many were there?”

“About five. Just a scouting party.” Marcurio woke up to hushed, worried voices.

“How close?” He recognised Ralof’s voice, but the other was unfamiliar.

“They were in Falkreath, leaving the longhouse. They headed southeast.”

“Shit. Let’s hope they keep going that way. Do you know if the elf’s party was noticed?”

“A bunch of rebels charging in broad daylight across Skyrim? Someone had to have seen them.” Marcurio grimaced. They should have waited until dark. Or stuck more to the wilds. Or… His thoughts were broken off by the voice’s reply:

“Probably. Though if they have, they’re making a good show of being clueless. I’d suggest keeping our guard up. They’re probably waiting for us to slip up and grow lax.”

“Of course. Get some rest, soldier.” Two pairs of footsteps crossed the camp, which was beginning to grow painfully small. Stormcloak soldiers came in each day, and so did others who wanted to fight. Marcurio counted three Orcs and an Argonian join in the past twelve hours alone. 

They needed to move, and soon. Esil was talking about caves and Dwemer ruins and the old Barrows, and how she knew a great place, even though it used to be a Daedric-worshipping cult’s tower, and it was somewhat dangerous, but it had beds and a place to cook food, and with the front entrance blocked with an illusion spell, no one could find it. She also mentioned a priest of Mara who was living there for some reason, and everyone was too scared to ask why. Knowing her, he had probably been a Daedra-worshipping cannibal and was hiding from the guards up there.

Marcurio sighed and stood up, exiting the tent. It was warm, which he supposed was better than having fierce winds and snow whipping at you while you tried to sleep, but after a while the heat was just as bad. He glanced around. No one was awake besides the few soldiers keeping watch, and even they looked like they were nodding off. He saw the outline of Ralof disappear into a tent, and walked over to one tired soldier, tapping his shoulder.

“Go get some sleep. I’ll take over.” The soldier didn't argue and walked away. Marcurio leaned against a tree, painfully aware of his surroundings.

 _If Esil regained her sight now, her eyes would probably go completely blind from sensory overload._ He mused. He saw the distant outline of a Spriggan, and the swift blur of a rabbit as it ran past. He smiled slightly, watching it disappear. 

Then he saw torches. He was instantly on edge, drawing out sparks and flames into his hands, dropping into a low crouch. He watched them approach, not wanting to call out until he was certain they weren't Thalmor. Then he saw the red and brown of Imperial uniforms. He frowned, his lip curling slightly. He had never had much stake in the war, but if the Empire remained aligned with the Thalmor, then they were also the enemy.

“Back away, friend. This isn't where you belong.” He called out. A soldier in an officer’s uniform approached him.

“I think it’s exactly where we need to be.” He said. Marcurio shook his head, watching the other soldiers draw their weapons in his peripheral vision.

“And where is that?” He asked.

“In your ‘hidden’ camp, which you can see the fires from in Falkreath.” The officer folded his arms, lifting his chin.

“Leave. Now. Before we attack.”

“No. Hear me out. Not all Imperials are alike. And there is little support for the Thalmor in our ranks. We want to fight them.”

“And how would I know that you’re not spies?” Marcurio was slipping into his role as a bullying guard quite well, he thought.

“Why would we be waltzing into a _Stormcloak_ _camp_ in _Imperial uniforms_?” He had a point, Marcurio thought.

“Wait here.” He said. The other guards flanked the path up as Marcurio ran off towards the officers’ tent.

“Wake up!” He ordered loudly. Ulfric and Galmar stirred, slowly rising.

“You’re not Esil. What is it?”

“Imperials, saying they want to join up.” Marcurio said. Galmar glowered, exiting the tent as more soldiers woke up. The Nord stormed towards the soldiers, drawing his axe.

“Why would you want in?” He growled. No one really noticed the Dunmer approaching them.

“Because I want to protect my home.” The soldier said.

“Right. Of course you do.”

“You’re the guy who was in Helgen.” Esil was at Galmar’s elbow now. “What’s-his-face, the guy who wasn’t too happy with my execution. And then led me through Helgen after I jumped out a window.” Esil walked towards him, cocking her head.

“You’re that little blind elf?”

“Sort of.” She said. She glanced back at Galmar. “He helped me. I don't trust him, but he’s an okay guy.” She told the Nord man. Galmar snorted.

“That remains to be seen, elf.”

“Hadvar. My name is Hadvar.”

“Sure. You need to change. You look stupid dressed like that.”

 

—

 

“High elves, Imperials, Orcs, Legion—we’re not a refugee camp, we’re a military base!” Ulfric roared.

“We’re a military camp that’s quickly running out of room and supplies. Everyone we let in is a capable fighter.” Esil argued. “We need to move. Now.” She rapped the table with her palm.

“I know we do. But where do we go?” Ulfric replied.

“Like I said, I know some places that—”

“Not your ideas. Half of them would waste troops just trying to clear it out, the rest of them would cause us to be found within three days.” Ulfric told the girl. Esil shut her mouth and glared at the illegible map.

“My Jarl, maybe the elf is right. A cave can get incredibly deep, and hard to navigate. If we—”

“I know a tower that’s damn near impossible to navigate!” Esil said. “It’s not the Daedra one. It had some necromancers in it, but I cleared them out. It’s got everything we could possibly need to survive.” Esil’s eyes began to grow wide again, but Ulfric stopped her.

“If we do that, can you guarantee our safety?”

“It’s a ruin.” Esil said pointedly. “And it’s partially flooded. But we need a new base, and it’s safer than being out here, exposed to the elements, predators and Thalmor.”

“Fine. Where is it?” Ulfric gave in, rubbing his forehead.

“I can’t remember.”

 

—

 

After a lot of staring at a blurred map and Marcurio reading out the names of places did Esil remember the location. 

“Ilinata’s Deep?” Marcurio asked her. Esil squeaked.

“That’s it!”

“You’ve got some notes next to it. Um, ‘Daedra are lazy assholes, talk to Nelacar just to screw with her.’ ‘Necromancers’.”

“That sounds about right. Thanks.”

“I thought you’d cleared it.” Ulfric said warningly.

“I did. I was reminding myself what to do.” Esil told him. “Also, there are a lot of bodies in there.” Marcurio groaned.

 

 

 


	60. Chapter 60

“Where is she?” Brynjolf walked over to Delvin in the Ragged Flagon.

“Don’t know. Haven’t seen her in months.”

“I bet she’s running jobs for the Dark Brotherhood. She’s fine.” Vex said from her post by the crates. Delvin shook his head.

“She’d leave some sort of note. She normally does.” The Breton said.

“Not always. She’ll turn up.” Vex assured him.

“Heard the Thalmor got ahold of some Stormcloaks. And there was a breakout from The Chill.” Vekel said calmly from behind the bar.

“Doesn’t mean much. We still have no trace of her.” Brynjolf said, his brow furrowing.

“Ilinata’s Deep has had some weird activity lately. Some fishermen said they saw torches and people going inside at night.” Tonilia called from across the room. Brynjolf raised his eyebrows.

“So, what? You want to go and poke around there? In some old ruin? After a dark elf who’s entire goal is to not be caught by anything?” Vex asked incredulously.

“We need to locate her. She’s never been gone this long before.” Brynjolf said firmly. “She has a duty to the Guild, and she needs to contact us.”

“I can check with our… ‘business partners’, see what the word is over there first. Don't do anything rash, all right?” Delvin said. Brynjolf slowly nodded.

“You know me. I don't do ‘rash’.”

 

—

 

“She brought in a bunch of escaped prisoners about a month ago, left a week later. That’s when she completely disappeared.” Delvin folded up the letter and pocketed it. “She was in The Chill. No one knows where she’s gone.” Brynjolf sighed.

“Fine. I’m going after her. If she was alive a month ago, she’s probably still alive now.” He turned on his heel and left.

“He’s going to get himself into trouble.” Vex said.

“I know. I’ll send Rune out after him.” Delvin told her.

 

—

 

Ilinata’s Deep was almost completely submerged at this point. Brynjolf could see slaughterfish swimming around the tower, and he had to approach it from the front, much to his dismay. In the mud he found fresh footprints, and ashes, probably from a torch. He approached the trapdoor inside cautiously, and jumped down into the darkness.

_Why did she decide to hole up in here? The idiotic whelp. When I get my hands on her…_

He landed in a foot of water, and glanced around quickly. There were definite signs of life, and several bodies dumped in the room haphazardly. As he walked farther in, he saw the dim glow of a torch up on the second level. Brynjolf frowned, climbing up and entering the doorway.

Farther inside he heard voices. About three, all male, and they were arguing.

“I don't think we should have done this.” One said.

“You’re an idiot. It’ll be fine!”

“I’m with him, Kian. It’s a necromancer nest. So what if the girl cleared it all out? We’re still living in a ruin!”

“We’re safe for now. Just shut up and keep watch.” Brynjolf crept past the angry Nords and kept going deeper into the ruin.

 

—

 

“Why are we down here, Esil? This is a terrible idea.”

“Shut up. It’s well protected.” Brynjolf peered around the corner as he heard Esil’s voice. The elf was still wearing her Guild Master’s armour, but was standing next to an Imperial while arguing with the Jarl of Windhelm. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the image laid out in front of him. He then had an arrow sticking out of the wall next to him.

“Brynjolf, what the hell? Don't do that!” Esil walked towards him and he stood quickly. The amusement was replaced with annoyance, and then anger at her abandoning the Guild.

“Where have you been for the past month?” He asked angrily.

“Everywhere.”

“You’re leading us, Esil. How dare you run off and do who knows what?”

“I’ve been having some issues with the Thalmor lately, that’s how I dare.” She said calmly. Brynjolf almost hit her out of frustration. The elf’s face was bored and she was being her usual oblivious incorrigible self.

“It’s not appropriate, whelp.”

“So I’m a whelp now?” Esil asked, cocking her head.

“You’ve always been a whelp.” Brynjolf folded his arms angrily.

“Right.”

“Get back to the Guild right now or I will drag you there myself.” His voice was laced with the threat, and Esil was sure he meant it.

“Can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” Brynjolf shouted, completely ignoring the other two men.

“I’m currently hiding from Altmer, but really, you’ve been living in the sewer, so I’m not sure how much you’ve heard about the current issues.”

“I’m very well aware of what’s going on, whelp. I also know that the Guild needs its leader _in the actual Guild_.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t.” Brynjolf balled his hands into fists.

“How many loyalties do you have?” He asked.

“About three. You, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Stormcloaks. Whiterun’s no longer in existence, so I’m not counting that.” Esil counted on her fingers.

“And how long are you trying to stay hidden? Until Skyrim is burned to the ground trying to find you?”

“Until we can get a coherent attack plan into place.” Esil told him.

“And how long will that take?”

“Um…” Esil looked confused, turning back to Ulfric quickly. “A few more days?” She asked quietly.

“Nocturnal help me… We don't have a few days!” Brynjolf roared. Esil had the decency to at least look startled. “We hunt you down across Skyrim, I told Delvin I’d bring you back, I go down into some godforsaken ruin, and you have the gall to tell me you don't even have a plan?” Esil was blank again. “Give me some facial expressions, elf!”

“I’m working on it.” Was the only reply.

“Go to that ‘war table’ and make a plan now! Because whether or not you have one, in an hour I’m going back to Riften, and I’m not going empty-handed!” Esil silently turned and walked over to it, ignoring Galmar’s smirk. When he began to comment, she slammed one of the daggers on the table down between his thumb and index finger.

Rune silently walked up behind Brynjolf.

“Heard your temper tantrum outside. Decided to come in and see what the problem was.” He said quietly. Brynjolf jumped.

“No you didn’t. I heard you behind me when I came in the tower.” He said.

“You got me. Fine. Delvin said to follow you.” Rune told him. “And really, you could have phrased that better.”

“You’re telling me you don't want to smack her upside the head.”

“Oh, I do, just with some different words.”

“Hah. I’m a thief, not a public speaker.”

“Of course you are. Though it was somewhat amusing to hear Esil’s mouth shut.”

 

—

 

The trek back to Riften was awkward. Esil was completely silent, picking random flowers and bushes along the way, and offering them to Rune, who pocketed them. They both tried to give Brynjolf a wide berth, as he stormed down the road. No predators crossed their path, probably all trying to avoid the fuming redhead.

“Does he do this often?” Esil whispered.

“No. Last I saw him lose his temper was with Mercer betraying us.” Rune muttered back, accepting the snowberries. Brynjolf growled as a rabbit tried to get out of the way. Esil heard the distant roar of a dragon, but ignored it, choosing to keep on Brynjolf’s heels.

 

—

 

“Get inside, whelp.” Was the low growl as they stood outside the secret entrance. Esil did as she was told, dropping down the ladder into the Cistern. She tried to be as small as she could as Brynjolf led her across the Cistern and into the Flagon.

“Brynjolf, where were you yesterday? I did the job, but—” Cynric was ignored, and Esil looked at him pleadingly. Rune trailed behind both of them, and Cynric, Vipir and Sapphire followed him into the Flagon, curious as to what would happen.

“Ah, you’re back. Welcome home, boss.” Delvin said jovially from his seat by the bar. Brynjolf nearly exploded.

“She disappears and that’s your response? She ditched us!” He shouted. Esil shook her head.

“Here he goes again.” Was the whisper in Rune’s ear. He began laughing as Brynjolf began ranting at Delvin. Vex smirked from where she was watching, and Dirge wandered over, curious as to what the issue was. Brynjolf turned and grabbed Esil’s shoulders, shaking her.

“Did you just miss what I said?” He asked.

“I might have tuned it out. It sounded like the same thing you did in the ruin.” She said calmly. At this point Vex began laughing as Brynjolf’s face turned the same shade as his hair.

“You little whelp! Does anything get through that thick skull of yours?”

“Bandits try to put arrows through it. Other than that, not much.” Esil said, staring at the ceiling. Brynjolf let out a scream of frustration, letting go of her and storming off.

“Did I do something wrong?” Esil looked genuinely concerned as the door to the Cistern slammed. Vekel howled with laughter.

“I haven't seen Brynjolf get that angry in a bloody long while. Last time it was because Vex was giving him some serious lip, around the time she got in with the Guild.” Delvin said calmly.

“Should I go talk to him?”

“He’d rip your head off, you oblivious little elf.” Vex said. “I’d wait about a day. Don’t leave, though, he’d go and track you down again.” Esil nodded, looking over to where she had a trail of other thieves watching.

“How many people heard?” She asked.

“The entire Cistern heard everything. Sapphire didn't shut the door.” Thrynn walked in, his arms folded. “Niruin is not happy. You managed to wake him up, from his bed on the other side of the Cistern.” Esil stared.

“I think everyone knows how it’s gone down, now.” Vipir commented. “Brynjolf’s in the training room right now, so I’d suggest you stay away from there.”

“Maybe staying in here for the next few hours would be a good idea.” Tonilia said. Esil nodded slowly.

“Whoopee.” Was the only comment.

 

 


	61. Chapter 61

“Brynjolf? Put the daggers down, please.” Esil said quietly. He turned, still fuming, but did as she asked, laying them down gently on the barrel next to the training dummy.

“You want to talk to me? After everything you’ve done?”

“I get that a lot. Hear me out.” Esil sat down on the floor, staring straight ahead. Brynjolf glowered and sat down across from her.

“I’ve been trying to fight the Thalmor. I was captured. I was interrogated. I escaped. I hid. I was preparing battle plans. And now I’m here. Because you went after me.” Esil said calmly.

“Why hide from us as well? After the Embassy you completely dropped out of sight. Why didn't you leave us a note or something?”

“I couldn’t. I didn't want them to find you.”

“Everyone knows where we are, lass. The Thalmor went through here before, into the Ratway. It’s common knowledge.” Esil nodded slowly.

“I was trying to cut down on the death.” She said quietly.

“You can’t, lass. Not at this point. You need to just embrace it. And you need to show the same level of meticulous care you have for your arrows with everything else. _Especially_ the Guild.”

“I’m trying.” Was the only reply. Brynjolf was fairly sure that Rune was suggesting a conversation like this instead of the shouting match with a wall, as Brynjolf decided Esil was. She was a wall, taking every punch someone gave, never reacting, and completely oblivious to everything around her.

“Trying isn't good enough. I’ll help you, if only by getting your little Stormcloak group the weapons they obviously need.” Esil was shaking slightly.

“Ammo— better bows— someone to train them— swords— axes— no maces, they don’t like maces— a way to smuggle supplies around— Brynjolf, I’m in over my head!” The last part of the babbling was almost a scream. Her eyes were wide, and she had full-on jitters. Brynjolf just swept down on her, enveloping her with his arms. He could feel the little elf curl up slightly against him. Maybe she wasn't a wall. She was just trying to be one.

“Talk to me, lass. What’s happening?”

“I lost my home. I almost lost my friends. I thought I lost my Guild. And I don't know how many friends I have.” Was the shaky reply.

“If you count me as your friend…”

“Guild. Brotherhood. Husband. Altmer. Twenty? No. Can’t be. Must be wrong, must be wrong.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Lydia was a friend. Nineteen? Ended up killing her. Almost killed everyone.”

“And why is that?”

“Everyone’s going to die. It’ll be my fault. Thalmor… everywhere…”

“No one’s dying, lass. Not if you get back up and fight.”

“I do. But they still die.” Brynjolf let go of Esil and held her at arms length.

“Where’s the wild elf I knew? She was strong. She didn't take any shit from anyone. I saw her last night. I want her back.”

“Phase. Happens… a lot… Will be back soon…” Esil’s eyes closed. “Marcurio asked the same thing. I don't know where she went. Sometimes she’s here, sometimes she’s not. Two people taking up one body…” Esil began muttering again, curling up in on herself. Brynjolf sighed and stood, deciding that he couldn't do anything more for her.

 

—

 

“So without Esil, we’re still attacking this fort?” Marcurio asked cautiously.

“She may be the Dragonborn, but we still have plenty of soldiers to make up for her absence. Get your armour on, boy.” Galmar ordered. Marcurio nodded quickly and left, passing soldiers who eyed him suspiciously.

 _Nearly two weeks and they still aren’t used to non-Nords in their precious camp._ Marcurio thought. _Fantastic._ He stopped as a pair of soldiers blocked his way into the armoury. _Why did Esil decide that they were the best choice?_

“Move.” He said. The woman glanced at her counterpart, and shook her head.

“Not until you prove you’re supposed to be here.” She said. Marcurio rolled his eyes.

“You were there when we entered the first camp! Move!” He replied, annoyed.

“Could be a spy.” The man told her. She nodded.

“Oh, for the love of Akatosh… out of my way!” He shouted, pushing past them and approaching his armour. One of them grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Not so fast. You need to—” Marcurio turned and punched him. The Nord reeled back, clutching his face, groaning. The woman glared at him, drawing her sword.

“That’s it!” She shouted.

“Both of you, calm down!” They froze, turning and watching the Legionnaire storm towards them. The woman seemed to shrink backwards away from him. “He’s not one of your made-up ‘spies’, girl. I’d suggest you go bug the High Elf who came in with him instead. Boy, go get yourself patched up.” He ordered the man Marcurio punched, and he stood up, glanced at the Imperial mage, and ran.

“Should I be thanking you or expecting you to turn on me now?” Marcurio asked suspiciously.

“Why would I be turning on you? Get your armour on.” Was the only reply as Hadvar walked off.

 

—

 

“You want how many crates of weapons delivered?” Delvin asked incredulously as Esil stood in front of him.

“Seven. Three with swords, two with axes, one with arrows and one with bows. And that’s not counting the order for armour.”

“Do you have any idea how much we’re talking here? That’s enough for a small army.”

“There’s a small army in Ilinata’s Deep right now. and I need someone to get that shipment in.” Esil said firmly. Her eyes were alive again, and she was smiling confidently.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

 

—

 

The Thalmor-occupied fort was harder to take out than they had expected. Marcurio and Ondolemar ended up back-to-back shooting off destruction spells at angry Thalmor, while archers tried to take down soldiers on both sides.

“We’re going to die.” The former Thalmor said quietly as Altmer reinforcements charged in.

“Esil told me you weren't useless. I’m trying to see her point of view, but I can’t. I—” Marcurio was cut short by a spell hitting him in the stomach. Immediately his limbs froze up, his face registering shock, and he fell over. Ondolemar reacted immediately, blasting the Thalmor mage apart with a firebolt. He began fighting even harder, keeping the elves away from them, but the Thalmor soldiers just kept coming, pushing him back against the wall of the fort. Ondolemar kept himself between Marcurio and the enemy.

“I will not let Esil down, Marcurio.” He said to the paralysed mage. “I am not going to explain to her why her husband died.” He threw a blast of fire that knocked the soldiers back, and flung ice spikes willy-nilly. He vaguely registered Stormcloaks tearing through the enemy, but didn't see anything other than his goal. He turned a Thalmor mage to ash, and turned on another group as they approached, readying his magic. He stopped, though, when he saw the blue uniforms. He sighed, dropping his magic. He poked the mage, panting, and tried to get him moving again.

“Damn it. Please forgive me for this.” He said, picking the Imperial up carefully and carrying him out of the fort.

 

—

 

“Never mention this to anyone.”

“The entire ruin knows.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. If you do, I’ll burn you to death. Slowly.” Marcurio stood up stiffly, rubbing his limbs. Ondolemar nodded quickly.

“Of course. Esil will find out, though. And Galmar is already telling Ulfric about it most likely.” Marcurio groaned.

“Miss me?” they turned as the Dunmer woman walked in, cocking her head.

“How did it go?”

“Shouting match, ended in weapon shipments. Normal encounters for me.” Esil said calmly. The two men could see the mania in the back of her eyes, and became slightly concerned.

“Weapons?”

“Swords. Axes. Bows. And armour.” Esil explained. She was rocking back and forth on her heels slightly, and her hands were twitching.

“Great.” The Altmer said. Esil ran off again, clanking.

 

 


	62. Chapter 62

“Ambassador, we’ve lost three forts and twenty patrols.”

“I know! Where are they based?”

“We… don’t know. No one’s seen them coming and going. We don’t know where they go when they finish their attacks. We don’t know their routes.” The Justiciar shrank backwards a bit as Elenwen glared at him.

“Then I suggest you find out.” She said quietly. “Before I send you out personally to find them.” The Altmer nodded and practically ran from her. Elenwen turned back to the map of Skyrim.

“They were near Falkreath. And then they disappear. Soldier!” She shouted at a golden-armoured guard. “Get me all the information we have on the Dragonborn.”

 

“Caves. Ruins. She spends a lot of time in them. Check every cave around Falkreath!” Elenwen ordered. “I want her head!”

 

—

 

Said Dragonborn was hanging upside-down from one of the exposed, slightly rotting beams that supported the ceiling. She was humming quietly, and watching Ulfric, Balgruuf and Galmar meticulously plot out attacks.

“Esil, get down from there and help us with this.” Balgruuf ordered.

“I can't see it anyway. You just tell me your plans.” Esil sang.

“Fine. We’re thinking of retaking Solitude. The Thalmor are holed up in there. We—” Esil dropped down from the beam, landing on their war table.

“Do you mind?” Galmar growled. She ignored them, listening to something.

“How many people are normally awake right now?” She asked.

“Most of them.” Galmar said.

“So why is it quiet?” Esil glanced at the Nords, then jumped off the table. She glanced at the ceiling as the distant smell of smoke reached her nose. “They’re here.” Was the only sentence she could get out before part of the roof caved in around them. Esil fell to the ground, coughing. She didn't know who else was alive, but right then all she cared about was herself.

Esil got up and ran, clambering over the rubble, through the ruined hallway, and towards armoured figures. She saw Ralof floundering around, trying to get his bearings.

“I can’t see anything!” He shouted. Esil grabbed his arm.

“Follow me.” Was the only reply. He looked up at her, eyes shut tightly. “You trust me, right?”

“No.”

“Come on.” Esil pulled him upright, glancing to the side where a yellow-robed mage and a man in elven armour charged by. She pulled Ralof out of the caved-in chamber, dragging him down a semi-intact hallway.

“There’s rubble to your left— watch your feet— duck down, this part’s low—“ Esil babbled orders as she dragged him along.

“This is worse than Helgen.” Ralof muttered.

“This is fantastic, what are you saying?” Esil asked, pushing him in front of her and guiding him into the entrance. She froze, spinning him around suddenly. Ralof heard the sound of a ward and an explosion.

“Thalmor.” The one word was whispered in his ear and the hand was gone. He heard the twang of a bow and dropped down to the ground, covering his head. Then cold hands were pulling him upright again, and down uneven stairs. He was pushed up against a ladder.

“Climb.” Was the order in his ear. He scrambled up it, pushing the trapdoor open. He heard the elf behind him, and they climbed out into frigid, stinking air. Esil pushed him to the ground and another explosion rocked the tower ruin. More arrows. Then his hands were brought to the surface of the lake, and he frantically washed the dirt out of his eyes. Footsteps ran past him, and he opened his eyes. It was dark, and Thalmor soldiers were everywhere. Esil was standing over him, firing arrows wildly. He could see Stormcloak soldiers up on the ruined battlements, trying to defend the doomed tower. Another explosion and the ground caved in beneath their feet.

He landed hard on his back, and watched as water rushed down onto him.

 

Hands. Lots of them, all reaching for him. He saw a grey-purple one and took it, feeling rocks being moved off of him. He was pulled up and saw the dead white eyes of a Dunmer.

“You alive?” She asked. Ralof coughed, nodding. “Stay there.” Was that concern? She ran off into the ruin, sliding underneath part of the caved-in hall. Ralof was handed a water-skin and gratefully drank from it.

 

—

 

Esil saw Imperial armour braced against a column. She saw the splintered side of their war table, and a fur-clad body underneath said column.

“Help me out here, would you?” Esil nodded, pushing against the column. Hadvar grimaced as the rock shuddered, sliding toward them.

“How’s he still alive?”

“I don't know if he is. But he’s one body who got caught in a little alcove of rubble. The other two are already out. They escaped.” Esil nodded, sliding down the rock. She stopped pushing on it and ran off.

“Where are you going?” Hadvar called. She didn't answer, instead running back in with a coil of rope. She quickly tied it, feeling her way through the knots, and then flung it up over the beam she had hung on, which, although it was a good foot lower than it was, was still intact. Esil leapt up, grabbing the end of the rope, trying to pull.

“Not working.” Esil said.

“I couldn’t tell. Stop, you’re not doing any good over there.” Esil bit her lip, letting go of the rope. It was caught by Ralof. He simply frowned and began pulling on it.

“Ralof.” Hadvar said cooly.

“Hadvar.” Esil crouched down as the stone lifted slightly.

“You had better be alive.” She muttered as she took Ulfric’s hands in hers and began pulling. Her feet slipped on the mouldy stone floor, and the stone column sank lower towards the ground. Hadvar glared at the floor, and kicked his legs up, bracing them against a drier wall.

“Keep pulling!” He ordered.

“I’m trying!” Was the frustrated reply. Esil gritted her teeth and dug her fingernails into Ulfric’s palms. She tugged, feeling him slide out slowly.

 

Stone floor. Cold hands were pulling. Dust was in Ulfric’s eyes. He was blind. It didn't matter. The ceiling had caved in around them. He had fallen. He was dead. Someone was shouting. Sharp nails were digging into his hands. He felt blood. Rocks were moved. A woman was talking loudly, angrily. He felt like he was underwater. Then he was on his back, his eyes were opened forcefully, and cold, clear water was poured onto them, flushing the dirt and grit from his eyes. He coughed, sitting up. There was Esil, with a dripping pot. Ralof dropped a rope, and a huge stone column fell to the ground, breaking into pieces and completely covering where he had been. He saw the Legionnaire, standing to the side, covered in dust.

“Good morning.” Esil stared down at him, her blank eyes boring into his.

“Help me up. I can’t feel my leg.” He gripped it, forcing it to bend as Ralof took one arm, helping him up.

 

—

 

He was upside down, pinned between the wall and the floor that had fallen out from under his feet. Marcurio kept his eyes shut, trying to get out. He didn't think anything was broken, but he was slowly suffocating. He heard faint footsteps and tried to attract attention by pounding on the chunk of stone. No one could hear him.

“Help!” His mouth and throat were filled with dirt and he choked. He felt the heat of a firebolt on his face as he summoned it, and blew it at the ground. The explosion caused the ground to shake, and the former floor pressed closer to him. _Bad idea._ He thought, panicked. He felt the weight of the stone shift, and someone was climbing underneath him.

 **“Fus Ro Dah**!” The stone was gone and he was falling. Someone caught him, staggering.

“Hello, my love.” Was the quiet voice in his ear.

 


	63. Chapter 63

 

Esil watched the colourful shapes hobble into the cave. She counted, trying to get a headcount while Ralof did numbers, but she got distracted, trying to find her friends. The blue cuirasses of Stormcloaks made up most of the people entering the cave, but she saw a Kahjiit, two orcs and an Argonian enter as well.

“Can you see Altmer?” She asked quietly.

“No, sorry.” Ralof replied, making tally marks in a book. A pit in Esil’s stomach opened up.

“Imperials?”

“One. Yours.” Esil nodded solemnly. “Why don’t you go down and look for him with the wounded that were carried in?” Esil silently jumped off of their ledge and ran down towards where a steady stream of injured were being carried in.

“Hi, are there any Altmer here?” She quietly asked an orc woman who was tallying the numbers.

“Do I look like I can remember which race is which? Go ask someone else.” She said bluntly, shooing Esil off. She nodded, running back to where the dirty yellow robes were sitting, drinking from a bottle.

“Hi. Help me out.” Esil told Marcurio. He looked at her, tired.

“Can I just drink?” He asked.

“Yeah, while we check the injured. Come on.” She pulled him up and dragged him off.

“No high elves as far as I can tell. We’d have to check the other chamber as well.” Marcurio glanced back at Esil.

“I thought you were with him.” She said.

“I was. Then the ground fell out from under me.”

“He could have been crushed, then.” Esil began walking up to the chamber where they were healing the critically injured.

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Did you see where he was headed?”

“No, Esil. There was too much dust, and I was more focused on the _floor falling out from under me._ ” Marcurio said pointedly.

“Sorry. I’m scared. I thought you were dead, I think he’s dead.” Esil said quietly. They turned as people began to return with a wagon. “What’s that?” They approached it.

“The bodies. Or the parts they could retrieve, Esil come here.” Marcurio tried to stop her as she ran towards the wagon.

“Are there any Altmer on this wagon?” She cried, grabbing a Bosmer man. He glanced at the wagon, frowning.

“No. There wasn’t.” Esil turned and ran back towards where they had been going. She flew into the room, looking around. There was nothing. No sign of an Altmer. She turned back to Marcurio.

“He’s gone…” She whispered. Marcurio hugged her tightly.

—

 

“We’ve lost our base, most of our supplies, and we’re back to hiding in the woods after marching for miles.” Balgruuf growled as he stared Esil down. He leaned heavily against a stalagmite, staring down a small map they had salvaged. “How can you suggest a full-fledged attack on Solitude?”

“It’s not an attack, more of a covert operation.” Esil said. “We need to take down Elenwen. Now.” Her jaw set, and her teeth were showing. Ulfric nodded from where he was sitting by the cooking fire.

“The girl’s right. It’s now or never.”

“I’m with Balgruuf, Jarl. We need to regroup.” Galmar told them, nodding to Balgruuf.

“There’s no time for regrouping. Half our camp was lost. A third were injured, and we only have enough food for a week.” Esil said.

“How do we get in the city, then?”

“I know a less-conspicuous entrance than the main gate. There’s a small door down by the East Empire Company’s warehouse. It leads straight up into the heart of Solitude.” Esil said proudly.

“I don’t think we have a choice, then.” Balgruuf said quietly. “To war it is.”

“Real quick, how many of the Imperial Jarls would support us?” Esil asked.

“All, most likely. The Thalmor are not liked. And if they’re burning Skyrim…” The former Jarl folded his arms. “You’re not considering gaining their support, are you?”

“Elisif would stand by us, yes? How many Holds are left?”

“Winterhold has fallen. Falkreath fell yesterday. Riften and Windhelm stand strong.”

“They’re going to torch Riften, probably. It would go up faster than Whiterun.” Esil muttered. “We march tomorrow afternoon. We arrive after dark. We sneak in. Half of us head for the Thalmor headquarters, the other half head for the Blue Palace.” Esil dug her foot into the dirt.

“Who goes where?” Galmar asked.

“The warriors take down the Thalmor. The officers go talk to the Jarls.”

“A bit risky, isn’t it? Splitting us in half like that?” Ulfric frowned.

“It’s that or waste time.” Esil lifted her chin, squinting.

“I hope your plan works.” Balgruuf stared her down. She looked at him, her gaze softening.

“So do I.” Esil said bitterly.

 

 


	64. Chapter 64

The first thing he heard was water rushing in. The first thing he felt was water on his face. His eyes opened quickly, and then widened in fear. He was on his back, his legs pinned underneath rubble. Water was rushing down into the chamber, and was quickly filling the room up. He tried to push the rocks away, and then moved some with his telekinesis spells. He glanced over, watching water creep up towards his head. He shot a firebolt at the rock, breaking part of it. Twice more and it broke in half, and he forced himself into a sitting position. Healing hands over his legs. Restoring some feeling to the appendages, and he stood. The water was up higher now, around his ankles. He leaned on the wall for support, staring up at the ceiling. There were holes. If he could swim to the top…

Part of the roof caved in, more water pouring down towards him. It rose past his knees, and he began climbing gingerly up the rocks. The dirty water seemed to chase him up, as he ran out of rock to climb, and began to be lifted up by the greenish water.

The large splash of something breaking the surface startled some nearby elk who ran in terror high into the forest. He clambered out onto the ruined tower, looking around.

_Even if I’m alive… I can’t walk and I don't know where the others are._

 

_—_

 

“Marcurio, just one mission, one little peek, that’s all I ask. It won’t take more than an hour at most. Just go over, look for any survivors and come back. It’s not that hard, right?” Esil followed her husband out of their cave, down towards the river.

“No. I’d do it if I thought it wouldn't be a waste of time, but Esil, look at me.” He turned to face her. “The Stormcloaks have scoured the place. They’ve found no sign of him before, why would this time be any different? Ondolemar’s gone. I’m sorry.” He turned back to where an inconspicuous drying rack of salmon was hung, and he began butchering the fish.

“They must have missed something. Parts of the tower halls caved in. He might be in one of the trapped rooms.”

“Even then, he probably drowned. They’re saying there is no more tower.”

“How close have they gotten?”

“Other side of the lake. They can’t get any closer, you know that.”

“But you could.” Esil said quietly.

“No. I’m sorry, love. He was your friend, I get that. But if we’re attacking tonight, I want to be completely prepared for it.” He took her head in his hands. Esil sighed, her eyes hooded.

“Fine. I’ll… go poison my arrows or something.” She turned away, entering the cave slowly.

 

—

 

“Someone’s at the door!” Sapphire called, then watched as an armoured figure dropped down the Cistern ladder with a crash, landing in a heap on the floor. She kicked him onto his back, and recognised him as Esil’s Altmer friend.

“Brynjolf, what the hell do we do with this?”

 

—

 

“Ilinata’s Deep was attacked. By Thalmor. And you don't know where they went.” The Altmer silently nodded as Brynjolf stood over him, arms folded. “So you don’t know where she is?” Another head shake. “Or where they were going?”

“Solitude. They had plans to attack Solitude.” Ondolemar croaked.

“Great. March right on into the centre of it all, why don’t you?” Brynjolf asked, annoyed.

“I don't know if she actually is.” He took an offered mead bottle and drank deeply. “All I know is that everyone probably thinks I’m dead.”

“Which means Thalmor aren’t looking for you.”

“They won’t stop looking until they find a body. The Stormcloaks, not so much. To them, I’m dead, gone, and good riddance.”

 

—

 

“This is it? This is your plan?” Ralof asked incredulously as Esil stood with a laughably tiny team outside the small door into the Solitude tower. The elf, her Imperial husband, the Nord and two Bretons stood together, hunched over against bitingly cold rain. The hood of Esil’s cloak hung down over her eyes and water streamed down in front of her face.

“Yup.” She said. Her bow was gripped tightly in her hand, and from what the others could see of her face, her jaw was set tightly.

“Let’s go.” Ralof sighed.

“What are we doing once we’re inside?” Marcurio asked.

“Taking out the guards up at the top. Once we do that, the rest of our army will come up through here, swarming everything.” Ralof told him.

“So why the little crew?”

“We’re headed straight up to the Blue Palace, ahead of everyone else, to try and get Elisif to send her troops out.”

“I thought Ulfric was doing that.” Esil said.

“No. Since he and Elisif are… somewhat at odds right now, he decided that having you do the talking would be a good idea.”

“Well, then, he’s an idiot.” The Breton woman snickered behind Ralof, while the man punched her arm.

“Let’s go, then. How will the rest know when to come up?” Marcurio asked. Ralof turned and snuffed out his torch.

“By waiting five minutes to attack after I kill the light. Which means we need to move. Now.” Ralof led them up the stairs, the sounds of arrows being notched and drawn back only a whisper against the noise of the crickets and night birds. 

Esil took aim at a Thalmor guard standing with his back to the stairs. She nodded, let loose the arrow, and heard the thud of the shaft being buried in his neck. Marcurio was up behind him, catching the body and laying it down quietly. The Breton man did the same thing, with the woman catching the guard. Ralof nodded, and they moved out into the moonlight. With a wave of his hand they began running as quietly as they could towards the palace, keeping to the shadows.

As they reached the courtyard of the palace they heard shouting, and weapons clashing.

“Here comes Ulfric.” Ralof muttered, and pushed open the doors.

 

—

 

Elisif watched as the Thalmor stood guard where her soldiers once did. She glared at their backs, and her steward folded his arms as one came out from one of the halls, his pockets obviously more full than they were going in.

An explosion of noise could be heard from the front, and Elisif saw a blur of grey-purple skin and a Thalmor soldier drop to the ground, a black arrow in his skull. Then a small Dunmer was in front of her, looking barely like a woman, with black face paint in streaks across her eyes and wearing Thieve’s Guild armour. She bowed carefully, then stood as another Thalmor fell and the screaming stopped. An Imperial, a Nord and two Bretons walked up as well, and each bowed, staining behind the elf.

“You’re the ‘war hero’ of the Stormcloaks, aren’t you. Dragonborn.” Elisif said calmly.

“They keep calling me that, don't they? I’m here to offer assistance, and ask for cooperation.”

“The city is held by Ulfric. He’s in charge.”

“Except for the part where the Thalmor took it away.” Elisif leaned back on her throne.

“And there’s the issue I have right now. See, I have no control. Ulfric took it away from me, and then the Thalmor took it away from him. I’m trying to run a Hold, and these men keep treating me as a plaything.”

“They do that a lot. I’m here to help you free Solitude, and—”

“And turn it back over to Ulfric so I can continue ruling as a puppet Jarl?”

“No. Help us reclaim your Hold, and I’ll see if I can talk Ulfric into letting you actually run things.”

“Why don't I trust you?” Elisif asked.

“I don't think you can bargain that way.” Ralof whispered in Esil’s ear.

“I can do whatever I damn well please while Ulfric’s off playing war again.”

“Again. Is that why I smell smoke? Have you managed to send Solitude the way of Whiterun?” Elisif stood, staring Esil down.

“No. No, I did not. We’re only after the Thalmor. And from what I gather, you’re not too fond of them, either.” Esil cocked her head.

“You’re right. But being ruled by them is better than being ruled by Ulfric.” Elisif spat.

“I get that, I really do. But, Jarl, once the Thalmor are done with you, they will slaughter everyone in here. They don’t care who lives and who dies, just that Skyrim be made an example to show what happens if you rebel. Jarl, please. Don’t let your hatred for Ulfric blind you to the needs of your people.” Esil stepped towards her, causing Elisif’s housecarl to block Esil’s path.

“I have heard your argument. Fine. Ready the soldiers. Tell them to fight the Thalmor. We rebel tonight.” Elisif stood proudly as a Nord ran off to alert the guards. Esil bowed once more.

“Thank you, my Jarl.” She said calmly.

 

—

 

The Thalmor were stronger than expected. There were also more of them. The Stormcloaks still swarmed around the elves like bees, stabbing and slicing and hacking into their enemies. Ulfric pressed closer to the headquarters’ door, pushing it open and storming in. It was empty, besides the few soldiers still in there. He and several Stormcloaks dispatched them easily. The place was deserted. Elenwen was not there. Ulfric frowned in confusion, but charged back out to keep fighting.

 

 


	65. Chapter 65

 

“You.” Elisif said coldly as Ulfric approached her. He stared Esil down.

“You promised her what?” He asked.

“To have control over her Hold back. I don't think it’s that difficult a choice, is it?” Esil asked. “She did just send out soldiers to flush the remaining Thalmor out.”

“While our troops were doing just fine.”

“Hey, you want support, I get you support. These were the terms.”

“I’d suggest you take a leaf out of our dark elf friend’s book and actually trust that I can do as good a job as I _was_ before you took over everything.” Elisif said. Ulfric sighed.

“Fine. You may rule as a true Jarl.” He said, defeated. Elisif nodded slightly to Esil, who grinned lopsidedly.

“Come on, girl. We need to plan our next step.” Ulfric motioned for Esil to follow him out of the Blue Palace, and she did, casting a sideways glance back at Elisif as she sat down on her throne proudly.

 

—

 

“We’re spending the night in Rorikstead because Ulfric called you back to Windhelm why?” Marcurio asked.

“Because it’s getting dark and I don't ride at night unless I have to.” She told him matter-of-factly.

“Fine.”

 

—

 

The farmers of Rorikstead paused, looking up as a large black horse charged in wildly, stopping suddenly and dancing around. Two people were on his back, a woman in a medley of different armours, and a man in mage robes who clung to the woman as if his life depended on it. The way the horse acted, his life probably did depend on it.

“Why can’t I get my own horse?” Marcurio complained as Shadowmere calmed down. Esil was swaying slightly in the saddle, barely listening.

“Because it costs money.” She said, jumping off and stumbling as if drunk. She stood up, swaying and grinning wildly.

“Oh Divines, not now.” Marcurio said as she hummed, taking the stallion’s reins and leading him to a hitching post, looping the leather cords loosely around the wooden beam, staring up at nothing. She stumbled backward, forcing Marcurio to catch her.

“Does she need help?” A farmer asked.

“No. Before you ask, she’s not drunk. We had a weird ride in and she’s in a mania. Where can we get a bed?”

“The Frostfruit inn, right in front of you. My father’s the innkeeper, he’ll set you right.” The man nodded to them, and dashed around in front, getting the door as Marcurio guided Esil into the inn.

“I don't want drunks in here! Get out!” The broad man at the counter shouted as Esil looked around, tripping over her feet.

“Sir, she’s not drunk. She just needs somewhere to sleep for a few hours. We have the gold.” Marcurio grabbed ahold of Esil’s shoulder straps and pulled her towards the counter as she attempted to walk in the other direction.

“I wanna go over there!” She babbled as Marcurio quickly dropped ten septims on the counter and dragged her into the room the innkeeper pointed at. He dumped her on the bed and she stared at him.

“You ever absorb a soul?” She asked, her voice high.

“No.”

“It’s…when it hits you the first time, you can see perfectly clear. It’s a complete rush of adrenaline, and you know _everything_ there is to know.” Esil said as she stared at the wall.

“Really.”

“I saw you. Perfectly. When I got the third dragon soul. You were standing right there. You’re pretty.” She sang nonsensically as her eyes closed.

“Really.” He said, and sat down on the bed, unwilling to leave her side.

 

—

 

“Thank you.” Marcurio handed the man an extra five septims.

“What’s this for?” He asked.

“For putting up with the midnight singing.” Marcurio had bags under his eyes and kept a firm grip on Esil’s arm.

“I heard something about souls and dragons.”

“That’s actually why she’s acting like this.” Marcurio held on as Esil tugged at his hand and lunged for something on the counter. “She absorbed six dragon souls yesterday, and completely lost it. She’s coming down off of her mania though.” Marcurio grabbed her other arm, holding on as she began trying to walk toward the door.

“I see. The Dragonborn of legend is an insane Dunmer.”

“Yeah. A bit underwhelming, I know.”

“This is the one that defeated Alduin?”

“Yeah.” Marcurio stared at the ground. The innkeeper laughed.

“I thought I’d seen everything. This is a tale, though. I meet the Dragonborn and she doesn't even know I’m here!”

“I know you’re here.” The two men were silenced as Esil stopped pulling and spoke. “I know where everyone in the room is. And one of your guests is trying to steal the goblets from the bench.” They looked up as a man saw them, pocketed said goblet and ran out the door.

“Damn it.”

“Thought you were…” Marcurio began.

“I’ve had some time to take everything in.” Esil detached herself from Marcurio and faced the innkeeper.

“Really?” He asked. She nodded and silently left the inn.

“She’d thank you if she knew how.” Marcurio said, handing him three septims for some mead and leaving.

 

—

 

When they entered the gates of Windhelm Esil took off running for the palace while Marcurio wandered down into the Grey Quarter, entering the corner club quietly.

“Morning.” He greeted the bartender.

 

—

 

“This isn’t happening.” Esil walked into the war room in Windhelm to find Ulfric pacing, looking panicked.

“What the hell happened?” She asked.

“Three of the former Jarls… were executed.” Ulfric looked up at her, pausing. “Markarth, Morthal, Falkreath. Elenwen’s summoned more forces from the Dominion.” Esil’s heart began beating faster. Her grip on the staff tightened.

“What happens now?” She asked.

“We destroy them. They’re sweeping down the valley towards Windhelm and Riften. They will wipe us out.” He stared Esil down.

“No. That’s not going to happen.” She said firmly, banging her staff and marching over to the table. Galmar walked in behind her, watching. “I refuse to let that happen.” Her eyes were bright and glittering in the torchlight.

“How?” Ulfric asked.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you like this.” She told him. He began pacing again. “I walked in here about a year and a half ago and you were calm and collected as all get out. Stop pacing!” Esil shouted, banging her fist on the table. Ulfric froze. “Galmar, I know you’re behind me. Come here. Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak, you hold still and you listen to me.” Esil glared, hunched over the table and looking like a predator. “You’re going to be the High King when we get rid of this elf problem. Got it? So I suggest you start acting like it. You get your ass over here and you start working on a plan.” Esil stood up straight.

“Galmar, why is she allowed to talk like this?” Ulfric asked.

“Because we couldn't stop her if we tried, Jarl. And the elf actually does have a point. If we take the mass of our army and lead them into one of the passes and then charge them head-on, while some of us come up from behind and flank them, they’ll go down.”

“Where do we get a ravine like that?” The two of them stared at Esil.

“There’s a mountain road. It leads up towards here. It’s got a sheer cliff on one side going up, and a freezing cold river on the other with an incredibly strong current. It’s near one of the mills. You knock any of them in there, they’ll die. We can flush them in, easy.”

“How?”

“The Voice. And arrows.” Esil looked thoughtful, her eyes hooded. “Half of their army marches to us, the other to Riften. We combat their half with our whole, and we’ll destroy them.”

“Fine. Galmar, ready the men.”

 


	66. Chapter 66

 

 _Watch. Listen. Wait. Attack. Pull back. Repeat._ Esil mouthed the mantra as she readied an arrow. She saw the blurred forms of Thalmor marching down the narrow road, waiting at the top of the cliff for the right moment. The front of the pack suddenly drew their weapons, and Esil nodded quickly to the other archers. Ten arrows shot down into the group, as Stormcloaks attacked from both sides, forcing the elves towards the frozen river. Ten more arrows fell from the cliff, and ten more Thalmor fell. Three Thalmor fell into the river, barely having time to call out before the icy water froze them solid. 

 _Is this too cruel?_ Esil thought vaguely as she robotically repeated the movements. _I think it is._ She shot a final arrow as the last of the Thalmor fell to the ground.

“Get down from that cliff! We ride for Riften!” She heard a shout and obeyed.

 

—

 

Smoke. _Not again._ Ondolemar thought, standing in the Cistern, watching the ladder leading down.

“Riften’s burning!” Someone shouted from the Flagon. _Damn._ Ondolemar ran out, climbing up the ladder and pulling the chain. The sky was orange, and there was nothing but intense heat. He could hear the faint sounds of battle outside the walls, and saw the flash of a shadow rush by.

 

—

 

“Esil, be careful!” Ralof shouted as she fired arrows wildly. She ignored him, letting an arrow fly into the head of a charging Thalmor.

“Was our first plan too harsh? I think it was too harsh.” Esil said as they stood back-to-back.

“It was your idea.”

“I was trying to get people focused. I forgot about ethics.”

“You don't have ‘ethics’, Esil. It’s what makes you so damn scary when you’re mad.”

“I get mad?”

“You’re _mad_ , and then you get mad. You—arrow!” Ralof spun her, bringing his shield up to block an arrow to her face. “Stop talking, will you? We’re in the middle of a war here.”

“And I think Riften’s on fire.” Esil commented, glancing back at the plumes of smoke rising from the city.

“Riften’s on—shit! I need a squad to get buckets and combat those flames! Do we have any ice mages?”

“I don’t think so.” Esil said quietly. Ralof swore, and Esil began running for the river as the Thalmor faltered in their attacks. She took the little knowledge she had of frost magic and began wielding it against the flames, freezing a path into the city proper. She charged in, spraying ice on the railings and walls, ignoring the soldiers using the polluted, stinking water to combat the fire. She was focused on her job, and didn’t see the Thalmor behind her draw her bow. The Altmer woman let loose an arrow that sank deep into her shoulder and Esil watched the world go dark as the flames grew higher.

 

—

 

A shadow glided across the battlefield, into the city and over to a body on the smouldering walkway. The arrow was prodded and inspected, and blank white eyes opened.

“You’re hurt. Stay still.”

“No. I gotta go an’ fight. They need me to go an’ fight.” The elf was picked up gently and carried into the Ratway, the shadow ignoring her comments.

 

—

 

“Delvin.”

“Karliah, what are you doing in here? What’s—oh. Vekel, go get Brynjolf!” Delvin stood, crossing the short distance over to where the two Dunmer were.

“I still got to go an’ fight there’s fire and everyone’s looking for me let me go I need to be up there—” Esil slurred as she was carried into the light, blood dripping down her arm.

“Why is it that our Guild Master keeps being carried or dragged back to us?” Vex asked.

“Hi.” Esil said, her jaw slack. “Lemme go there’s shit needs doing.”

“The only thing you’re going to do is let us fix your shoulder.” Delvin told her. Esil looked at him.

“And then I go an’ go an’ go…” Esil’s head lolled back and she was out again.

“How much blood has she lost?”

“A lot. She’s also completely nonsensical from the pain.”

“Any mentions of it? Is Riften still burning?”

“No and no. She’d been talking about getting back into the war, and when I’d found her, there were only a few spots left that were on fire. Most of Riften still stands.”

“Probably from how much moisture gets soaked into the wood. We’ve got stuff ready.” Rune was at their side, leading Karliah into the Cistern and over into their training room, where they’d stuffed a cot and an array of surgical equipment. Karliah watched carefully as Thrynn took Esil’s wounded shoulder and began to work the arrow out.

 

—

 

“I’m awake! Where am I?” Esil stood up quickly, and then fell over, looking up at Karliah. “Hi.” She said.

“Stay still.” She was pushed back onto the bed.

“You didn't poison me again, did you?” Esil asked cautiously.

“Of course not. A Thalmor soldier, however, did.” She turned to leave the room. “Stay here for now, all right? I need to go let the others know.”

 

—

 

“She’s awake.” Thrynn nodded.

“She’s not going to end up running around the Cistern again, is she?” Sapphire asked.

“If she does I’m going to paralyse her.” Niruin threatened.

“Easy, Niruin. But seriously, is she?” Brynjolf looked at Karliah.

“If she does she’ll reopen her wound. For now if you could keep her still that would be best.”

“You’re not staying.” Rune said flatly.

“No. I need to get back to… I need to protect something and I won’t let the Thalmor get past the front door.” Karliah nodded to Brynjolf, who sighed.

“Fine. Be safe.” The Dunmer woman nodded and left quickly.

“So we’re short a thief and our Guild Master may or may not be lucid. We’ve got a stranger in our Cistern and Riften was on fire. What are you doing, Brynjolf?” Cynric asked from the entrance to the Flagon. Brynjolf sighed and walked into where they’d left Esil. He froze as a scream rocked the Cistern, and then a frenzied babble of excited voices reached their ears. Brynjolf ran in to find Esil hugging herself, rocking back and forth on the bed.

“Where am I where am I where am I? I need to go, everyone’s looking for me— oh Divines Marcurio thinks I’m dead!” She shouted, getting up and beginning to run. Thrynn stomped in, forcing her back down.

“Sorry, but you’re not going anywhere right now. Not until I change these bandages.”

He roughly gripped Esil’s arm and took off the bandages, applied something cold and rewrapped the shoulder. “Now you can get up, you’ve got a Guild who’s not sure what happened.”

 

—

 

“Hi.” Esil said quietly as she stood in front of her Guild. “Um… I’ve been having some problems. With… Thalmor. And… we managed to screw up.” She looked at Brynjolf, who just stood there, frowning. “And… now shit’s on fire… and I have to leave again.” She ignored the muttering and continued awkwardly. “I’m probably going to die. So… Delvin and Vex are in charge. Sapphire will guard the entrance to the Cistern, and Dirge… will do what he aways does. Anyone… the Imperial man that showed up? Let him in. The Jarl of Windhelm, let him in. If… they know me, let them in…” Esil trailed off again. “Bye.” She slowly walked towards the exit. “It was great knowing you.” She told them.

“Esil.” She turned. “May Nocturnal be with you.” Brynjolf told her. She nodded, smiling weakly.

“Goodbye, boss.” Delvin muttered as the Dunmer disappeared.

 

—

 

Marcurio stood in the middle of the smoking battlefield, shaking. Corpses littered the ground, and he had turned them all over, going back through them multiple times. Esil had disappeared. She was gone.

“Esil? Esil!” He screamed, panicking. Ralof tried to identify several charred bodies, looking for any telltale signs that it was Esil.

“I’ve counted the living soldiers. There are no dark elves. I’ve checked the injured. I’m searching the bodies. She’s disappeared.” Marcurio said.

“She headed into Riften last night to combat the fire. I can't find her in there, either.” Ralof told him. Marcurio sank to his knees.

“She’s gone and I don't know where. She’s disappeared and I don't even have a body to bury.” Marcurio held his head in his hands.

“They’re still fishing bodies out of the water, and finding injured in the homes. She might still be found.” Ralof looked up suddenly as a shadow drifted along the edge of the wall. He kneed Marcurio, who glanced over. He saw the familiar armour and a bow, and was up and charging towards the shape.

“Esil?” He saw the shape’s face, a thin Dunmer woman’s. He stopped.

“Your wife is safe, sir. She’s alive. She’ll be up soon.”

“Where is she?” He asked.

“I cannot say. It’s best if no one knows for now.” The woman walked away.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” He asked harshly.

“A blind Dunmer. She has a black bow and uses steel arrows. Assassin’s hood and gloves, Thieve’s Guild armour, Daedric boots and doesn’t like to hold still. She’s asleep. She was wounded, but healing.” She smiled at him. “On the honour of the Guild, I do not lie.” She turned away, disappearing quickly.

 

—

 

“She’s alive… I think.” Marcurio muttered, ignoring the figures approaching him as he sat in their camp. He started, reaching for a weapon as small arms wrapped around him.

“Hi.” Was the only greeting Esil gave. Marcurio pushed her off and stood, turning.

“I thought you were dead!” He shouted, hugging her tightly. “I thought you died and there wasn't even a body to bury.” He shook, eyes shut tightly.

“I’m alive.”

“I can see that.” He glanced up at the large tent. “Ulfric’s not happy.” Esil giggled.

“He’s mad because I died?” She asked. “Where is he, I wanna scare him.” Marcurio let go of her and pointed up at the large tent. She ran up towards it, entering silently. In a few seconds she was running out, laughing, while an angry Nord man chased after her.

 

 


	67. Chapter 67

 

“So now that we have our entire council, including our dearly departed Esil, I think now would be a good time to focus on bringing the fight back to the Thalmor, instead of having to play catchup.” Galmar told the two others in the tent.

“Fond memories.” Esil muttered as Galmar stuck a little needle into their map. “What does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to attack their army. They’re camping near the Whiterun ruins.”

“Bastards.” Esil muttered.

“We’re going to attack directly, surrounding them and slaughtering everyone.” Galmar told them. “Fight like true Nords do.”

“Except I’m not a Nord.” Esil corrected. Galmar glared at her.

“Continue, Galmar.” Ulfric said quickly.

“Thank you, Jarl. We still have some catapults, and I suggest we use them.”

 

—

 

“What does the Listener say?” Babette asked as Nazir opened a letter Cicero brought in.

“She says get ready for a storm.”

“Anything else?”

“That we may need a new Listener.” Babette groaned. “They’re attacking the Thalmor head-on near Whiterun.”

“All right.” Babette muttered.

 

—

 

“They’re not.”

“They are.” Delvin told Vex as they sat in the Flagon.

“She’s a fool.” Dirge called from his post. “She’s going to end up dying.”

“She mentioned that.” Delvin said.

“Oh gods.” Tonilia said. “Not again.”

 

—

 

They stood on the edges of the valley, sheltered by forest.

“You remember your Shouts?” Marcurio asked.

“Yes.” Esil said.

“You have your arrows?”

“Yes.” Esil nodded impatiently, the sounds of birds aggravating her.

“Your bowstring is new?”

“Yes. You have your sword?” Esil asked.

“Yes.” Marcurio replied.

“Enough magicka?”

“Yes.”

“Potions?” Esil cocked her head worriedly.

“Of course.” Marcurio kissed her cheek, causing her to smile.

“I love you.” She told him.

“Really?”

“Yup.” She took Shadowmere’s reins and pulled the bridle off. “Shadowmere, I want you to tear through the Thalmor like the demon horse you are. Got it?” She asked quietly. Shadowmere snorted, shaking his head. Esil looked at Marcurio as he stood, ready to run.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said with finality.

“Don’t die.” Was all she had to say as she drew her bow, notched and arrow and heard the sound of the war horn.

 

—

 

“ **Od Ah Viing**!” The Shout echoed across the valley as Esil shot down Thalmor left and right. She heard the familiar roar of a dragon and watched the red shape soar down from the sky. She grinned as fire rained down around her. An explosion rocked the ground and she stumbled, watching the catapults fling fiery debris down onto the battlefield. Esil saw horsemen charging, only to be mowed down by arrows from the Stormcloak army. Screams and the sound of weapons clashing filled the air, and she vaguely heard another Shout through the noise. Then the panicked yelling started.

One hundred more soldiers came down from the west, wearing the golden elven armour and throwing destruction spells  among the ranks. Another explosion rocked the ground and Esil stumbled, falling to her knees and looking up as Odahviing was forced to retreat or die. He flew off, and Esil could hear him speaking.

“Krosis. Krosis, dovahkiin.” She watched as the sun set, and they were surrounded by the Thalmor soldiers. She shut her eyes as their plans, their traps, their strategies all fell apart around them. Someone lifted her harshly onto her feet, forcing her hands behind her back. She opened her eyes as a gag was brought up to her mouth, and she began thrashing around, biting at the hands. It was a failed attempt, and the rough cloth covered her mouth. She was forced onto a wagon where she looked up at Ralof, Marcurio, Galmar and Ulfric, who was also gagged.

“Together again, huh?” Ralof asked bitterly. Esil looked at the ground as the wagon pulled away towards Solitude.

 

 

 


	68. Chapter 68

 

“Esil’s been sentenced to death.” Vekel said.

“And what can we do about that?” Delvin asked.

“We have archers. Get them ready.” Tonilia told Delvin.

 

—

 

 _Chopping blocks chopping blocks chopping blocks. We’re going to die._ Esil watched as the wagons slowed and halted roughly and the others were pulled from the wagon. She stepped down cautiously, and stood next to Marcurio.

“We have an audience.” He muttered. She looked up and saw the outlines of people. The people of Solitude, and of the surrounding area stood inside the gates. There was barely any room for the Thalmor to lead in the prisoners. Elenwen was standing by the block.

“Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm! You have been charged with high treason and murder, and sentenced to death! Galmar Stone-Fist, you’ve been charged with high treason, aiding criminals and murder. You will also die.” She glanced over at a Justiciar’s list with a self-satisfied smile. “Esil Stormblade. You’ve been charged with murder, including the murder of the Emperor, multiple Thalmor officials and the murder of the Falkreath housecarl. Multiple accounts of thievery, trespassing, vandalism, desecration of a temple, consorting with criminals, high treason, and the list goes on for several pages. You have been sentenced to death.” She glanced up at Ralof. “Ralof of Riverwood. Treason and dissent. Murdering Thalmor officials. Life in prison. Marcurio. Dissent, thievery and one murder. Twenty years prison.”

“How do you even manage to get that long of a list?” Ralof asked the gagged elf, who just shrugged and cocked her head.

“The ‘Dragonborn’ goes first!” Elenwen shouted. Esil’s eyes widened as she was dragged up towards the block. Marcurio moved to say goodbye but was pushed back. She shook the two soldiers off and stared up at Elenwen. She stood up straight, rolled her shoulders back and stepped elegantly up the steps. A woman was singing, silenced quickly by her husband, but by then the surrounding people had heard, looked, and began muttering the song. Marcurio heard the words and grinned.

“Our hero, our hero claims a warrior’s heart.” He began singing as well, looking up at Elenwen. Esil knelt down, dropping her head onto the block, staring up at the executioner.

“It’s an end to the evil of all Skyrim’s foes!” Someone shouted. Esil looked up at Elenwen, raising her eyebrows. Ulfric nodded to Galmar, who smirked.

“A bit more than they expected, isn't it?” He asked. The Jarl nodded. Esil looked up and saw a shadow moving swiftly along the wall, and the glint of an arrow in the dawn’s light. She ducked her head and moved her arms up as much as she could, still acting like she was about to die. As the crowd finished singing an arrow buried itself in the wood behind the Dunmer. The ropes fell to the ground softly. Two more arrows buried themselves in the Thalmor flanking her. Esil stood, pulling down her gag and the beginnings of a Shout coming to her lips. Another arrow sliced through Ulfric’s bonds as well, and the knife at Marcurio’s arms cut his ropes.

“Told you I wasn't completely useless.” Ondolemar muttered in the Imperial’s ear.

“I’ve never been so glad to hear your voice.”

“Archers are on the walls. I expect you to get Esil and get out.” The armoured Altmer ran for the gate as the crowd erupted, Thalmor beginning to rush through them, trying to contain the prisoners. The amount of Stormcloaks and armed civilians, though, overwhelmed the Altmer soldiers.

Marcurio ran through the crowd, trying to reach the execution block, and had a blurred elf land on him.

“Hi.” She said quickly. He smiled and grabbed her hand.

“Come on, we need to run!” He said.

“We need to stop Elenwen!” She countered.

“She’s headed towards the docks!” Ralof called from near the gates. Without hesitation Esil charged through the crowd, running down the dark road.

“Wait she’s heavily guarded!” Ralof shouted, chasing after her.

 

—

 

“Move.” Elenwen ordered the hooded man who blocked her way onto the ship. He said nothing, simply casting a ward and drawing sparks into his hand. She frowned, copying him.

 

—

 

Esil ran for the docks as explosions of bright lights filled the air. She saw the dim outlines of an Altmer and a mage, and as she neared the mage was blown backward, hitting the side of the boat. Esil heard the sound of a paralysis spell and watched as Elenwen’s limbs locked up and she fell over stiffly. She crouched down by her head.

“Lots of people try to kill me. Your plan was just the most elaborate.” She muttered in the woman’s ear. She then turned to the mage. “Who were you?” She pulled at the hood, and instantly recognised the face.

 

—

 

Marcurio heard the scream and saw the bodies. As he drew closer he could pick out words.

“You were dead I thought you had died! You were alive and I couldn't find you! Why? Where did you go? You were still alive and then you almost died against her? Why would you do this I don't want to lose any more friends!” He saw Esil screaming at a body, which the two Stormcloak soldiers ignored as they carried Elenwen back up to Solitude. He ran towards them, and saw an Altmer man being picked up by Esil.

“You’re not dead.” He said. Ondolemar nodded.

 

—

 

“I see your little plans have worked.” Elenwen looked over at where Esil stood, glaring through the bars of the prison cell.

“You tried to kill everyone.” She said simply.

“Yes. We are actually quite similar. We both take our orders, and carry them out with the most destruction possible.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Really? Might I repeat the incredibly long list of charges brought against you?” Esil blinked, unmoving. “Vandalism. Theft. A lot of jammed locks and broken hinges.”

“If they wanted to keep their shit safe they needed to install better locks.”

“Which you would still ignore.”

“Don’t lecture me on morals. You ordered the burning of two Holds.” Esil told the Thalmor woman.

“I know. My list of crimes is still smaller than yours. How did you manage to kill the Emperor of Tamriel and make it look like a Forsworn attack? That I’m curious about.”

“Forsworn attack me, I take their arrows.” Esil told her. She nodded.

“And? You enjoy killing things. Tell me, what’s my sentence?”

“I’m not sure.” Esil turned and left abruptly, leaving the Ambassador alone.

 

—

 

“Elenwen, we’re going to make a deal.” Ulfric said. The Altmer woman stood across from him at the table in the Castle Dour, locked in a staring match with Esil. She was wearing her Nightingale armour and wasn’t moving.

“And what would that be?” She asked.

“You allow us to claim independence, you keep the Aldmeri Dominion away from us, and we grant your troops safe passage out of the country. Those who wish to stay will be made citizens.”

“And I, personally?”

“We let you leave the country, instead of having you executed for war crimes.” Ulfric growled.

“Fascinating. However, I would like to take the traitorous Justiciar as a prisoner, and I’m not going to sign any treaties until then.”

“We’re not trading people.” Esil said. When Ulfric glanced warningly at her, she added “You killed him last week. He’s dead.” Elenwen looked shocked.

“I see. Very well. I want the Thalmor that are locked up released, however.”

“And you will tell the Dominion that they aren’t allowed inside the borders?” Ulfric asked.

“Yes.”

“Sign.” Ulfric pointed at the blurred paper.

“Wait.” Esil said. They stopped, looking at her. “We’re not sending her back. She’s a criminal.”

“Shall we have you tried as well, Esil?”

“War crimes. Not every other crime possible.” She told him.

“The Dominion won’t be happy that we killed one of their own.”

“The Dominion won’t be happy that she surrendered and we won.” Esil pointed out.

“We’ve gone down this path before. Last time it ended with a burning Hold.” Galmar commented.

“Elenwen. You’re going to tell the Dominion that they have to leave Skyrim alone.” Ulfric told her.

“And why would I do that?” Elenwen asked.

“Because otherwise no one leaves Skyrim.”

“Fine. Give me parchment.”

 

—

 

“So the Dominion’s going to try Elenwen privately.” Galmar said as Elenwen left in a wagon, chained to the side. “This was a terrible idea.”

“She’s out of Skyrim, and so are the Thalmor.”

“I’m surprised that you let some stay.” Esil said. “From what the Argonians say, you hate non-Nords.

“The Argonians are not known for honesty.” Ulfric told her.

“I’m going to disagree with you there. If the war’s over, can you focus on the Grey Quarter before we’ve got Dunmer uprisings in Windhelm?” Esil asked. Ulfric sighed.

“I’ll look into it.” He told her.

“I’ll be making sure you do.” Esil stared at the top of the gate.

“And now the Moot can finally declare a High King.” Galmar said, quickly changing the subject.

“Maybe I can finally get back to work.” Esil mentioned distractedly.

“Yes, you should. But one last thing— if I am declared High King, will you stand by me as I’m coronated?” She looked over at Ulfric.

“Not sure why you’d want that, but okay.” Esil said quietly.

 

 

 


	69. Chapter 69

 

“What are you doing?” Marcurio asked as Esil stood near the river by Whiterun. They could hear the sounds of axes chopping wood as people rebuilt the city from the bridge, and Esil was staring at the plains.

“People are talking about a monument to the wars. Something like a pillar, with the names of the dead engraved on them.” Esil said calmly.

“And?”

“The symbols of the Empire, the Stormcloaks and the Aldmeri Dominion, I think. Silver at the top of the pillar.” Esil said to no one in particular.

“Fascinating.” Marcurio told her.

 

—

 

“I hate formal affairs.” Esil muttered to Galmar as they stood in the main hall of Windhelm.

“You’re telling me. I’m going to be glad when we can all get back to work.”

“Quiet, you two.” Ulfric told them from the wall. People walked in, and Esil could just make out Marcurio and Ondolemar, and was fairly sure the flash of red hair near the door belonged to Brynjolf. Former and current Jarls were standing side-by-side, as were Legion and Stormcloak soldiers.

A priest offered Ulfric the crown and he took it, sitting on his throne.

“All hail Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim!” The priest said. Esil and Galmar stood at attention, the difference in armour painfully obvious.

“Why did she decide to wear Dark Brotherhood armour?” Marcurio asked.

“Don’t ask me. I’m dead.” Ondolemar replied quietly. The Imperial man snorted.

 

—

 

“I’m back.” Esil sang as she blew through the doors to the Flagon.

“Oh gods help us.” Vex said loudly. Esil smirked.

“Got any jobs near Falkreath?” She asked.

“Of course.” She handed the elf a slip of paper.

 

—

 

“We are not going hunting drunk!” Marcurio exclaimed as Esil offered him a bottle of mead and a bow. “That’s a stupid idea, and someone’s going to get hurt.” Esil sighed and dropped the mead, slinging her quiver over her back.

“Just plain hunting?” She asked.

“Fine. Just plain hunting.” He agreed, reaching for his bow.

 

—

 

“I’m making you Daedric armour.” Esil commented to no one in particular as she stoked their campfire.

“Why would you do that?” Marcurio asked from in the darkness as he brought back several logs for the fire.

“Because it’s got good protection.” Esil told him calmly. “And your robes aren’t the best for hiding.”

“And neither is armour that glows red.” Marcurio told her.

“Better than yellow.” Esil poked their roasting venison with a stick.

“Fine. Where did Ondolemar head off to?”

“Not sure. Said he was going to help rebuild Whiterun, but he might be in the wilds around there.”

“Good job keeping track of your friends, Esil.” Marcurio sat down next to her, their backs to the cliff wall.

“Hey, he said that he’d like to not be followed for a while. I’m going to honour his request.”

“Nice to see you’re beginning to show some semblance of humanity.” Esil was pulled into her husband’s arms. She hummed.

“Thought my general attitude was what drew you in in the first place. Might call it a ‘work in progress’.”

“I’ve given up trying to fix you. I think I’m just being dragged along for the ride at this point.” Marcurio laughed softly.

“Good. I think it’s been fun.” Esil curled up against his stomach.

“‘Fun’ being life-or-death situations every half hour? Of course. But I’m glad I tried to bilk you out of your coin that first time we met. Even if you still owe me money.”

“I owe everyone money, love. I just spend more time with you.” Marcurio pulled her up and kissed her deeply.

 

—

 

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> So much Skyrim. Obviously nothing except Esil and maybe a few other OCs belong to me. Loosely based on the main quest of Skyrim, barring the fact that I can’t remember exact dialogue and the main character can’t see.


End file.
